


The Selection Room

by kolxhero_0



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Amputation, Blood and Injury, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pain, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 25,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28729668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolxhero_0/pseuds/kolxhero_0
Summary: Two unlucky souls meet in a damp prison cell. Daily, they are beaten to a bruised and bloody pulp, without explanation. After such abuse, how can they still be alive? ((Rusame/Sci-Fi AU))
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are Human in this story.  
> Original was posted 2013-2015, I do believe.  
> There will be an ending to this story, slowly finishing it. :)
> 
> -kolxhero-0

The small concrete room was covered in a thick layer of muddy filth. Rows of humming fluorescent lights lined the ceiling. Collapsed in the center was a large pale figure. His hair was an ashy blonde, near white and overgrown. He was shackled to the floor with rusted iron chains, much to short for him the move more than a few inches. Horrendous wounds covered his bare body. Thankfully, the freezer-like temperature had kept infection at bay.

His brow trembled, awaking to the faint sounds of moans and uneven breathing. Close by a man was huddled in the corner. A shackle was secured uncomfortably tight around his ankle. He was young with childlike facial features. His dark wheat fringe had been ratted with mud, sticking up in places it was not meant to.

"Do I have a new roommate?" He asked in Russian, his native tongue. His voice was rough, dry from dehydration.

The youth's eyes flashed open. They were as cold and fierce as the Russian Tundra. A bright blue, the color of pure sapphire.

"Where am I?" He demanded. His speech was undoubtedly American. "What is this place?"

"An American?"

"I asked where I am, COMMIE SCUM!"

"Hush, hush." The Russian spoke calmly. "I do not think you should yell. If the guards hear, you will get some un-welcomed attention. You do not want, I promise."

The youth looked over to the heavy metal door, then back at the man shackled down to the floor. He cautiously crawled towards him.

"Where am I?" He asked again, quietly.

"I believed I was being held at an American Military Prison, but, now, I do not think."

"So, this place is not Russian?"

"No. I do not know even what the guards are. They do not speak, nor expose their faces. I have not the reason why I am being held here, nor you."

"How long have you been here?"

"Weeks? Months? Years? This, I do not know. In this place of torture, time does not exist. I have not seen past this room, since I have arrived. Occasionally I get a roommate, but they die before they even awake from the first beating. You are the only one, I have seen survive."


	2. Chapter 2

"Useless commie." The America hissed and went back to his corner. He shivered from the cold that weathered his exposed flesh. The abuse from his captives was vividly etched over his entire body.

"Do you mind making conversation with me, before you die?" Asked the Russian, smiling. "It has been a long time since I have had company."

"I will not die here." The youth grumbled. "This will not be my casket."

The ashy blond chuckled deep.

"What is your name?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Ivan, my name is Ivan."

"Even, huh?" Snorted the younger man. "Mine is Alfred."

"Ivan." Corrected the Russian. "Nice in meeting you, Alfred."

"Don't say my name, its creepy." Alfred cringed. "So, your from Russia? You got family or. . .something?"

"A daughter, her name is Anastasia."

"I got my folks and a girl back home. Was raised as an all American and joined the airforce as soon as I could. I am the number one fighter pilot of all time. Been shot out of the sky 37 times and still kickin'."

"I carved wood."

"Sounds fascinating." The American sighed and ran a hand over his bruised shoulder. "I am starving."

"If I die first, you can eat me." Ivan said, half joking. "However, I doubt you will outlive me."

"Thanks for the offer, but, I am getting out of here." Alfred groaned and crawled towards the door. It was tan colored and rusted around the edges.

"Careful, you will end up chained like me."

"Shut up." The American whispered. He examined the hinges of the door closely. His fingers laced over the metal. It had been welded slobbishly. The concrete was beginning to crumble around the frame. A piece came off in Alfred's hands.

Suddenly, the door was forced open, smashing the American into the wall. He yelped, painfully. His hand was stuck in the hinge, blood ran down his arm as he struggled to free himself. Two guards dressed in black uniforms stepped inside. Both had dark helmets that covered their faces. One snatched Alfred's chain and yanked him out from behind the door.

"Bastards!" Alfred sneered, holding his wounded hand to his body.

The guard moved quickly, shoving the captives head into the wall. It hit hard, cracking the concrete at impact. Alfred glared up at the masked man, spitting blood from his lips. The other guard shut the door. An aluminum bat was slung over one shoulder. It was dented and already bloodied from use.

"Just close your eyes and bare it, it will only seem like it lasts forever." Said the Russian softly. He was smiling at the ceiling. "Soon, you will not notice the pain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Quick Short Story, just to keep me going.  
> -Kolxhero-0)
> 
> That was the original note. Past me says this, but this story has 30 chapters. lmao
> 
> -kolxhero-0


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred laid limp, facedown in the mud. With every breath he took, it felt like an array of needles piercing his insides. Alfred turned his head towards Ivan. Deep mauve eyes glistened out from under his messy bangs. He had been watching him, patiently, for awhile.

"You are still alive." The Russian smiled and sat up, rubbing the bruises on his wrists. The guards had removed his shackles on his arms, without explanation. He had also not been beaten nearly as bad as before. "I was unsure if you would survive, they beat you so badly." Ivan wiped away some mud that was plastered to his cheek.

"Aah..." The youth whimpered at the man's touch. Everything hurt like a bitch.

"It must hurt." Ivan sighed and picked up Alfred's arm. Alfred winced, watching, as it was placed close to the Russian's mouth. The flesh was a deep purple that faded in and out of yellow hues. Ivan ran his dry tongue over the bruises. "Tender." He concluded. His smile had become menacing.

Alfred managed to pull his arm free. His eyes narrowed at the Russian, concluding the man was a freak.

"Did I frighten you?" Asked Ivan, chuckling. "You have nothing to fear. I do not eat the living, however..." He took Alfred and turned him onto his back. A large hand clasped over the youth's mouth and nose, suffocating him. "The dead is a different story."

Alfred thrashed, managing to wrestle the man off and pin him down to the ground. Ivan looked up at him surprised at first, then, he began laughing hysterically. The American glowered down at him.

"Crazy asshole." He said horsely. "You tried to kill me."

"Da, I did." Ivan said, calming himself down. "I was going to eat you, but, now, I find you far too interesting for that."

Alfred got off the older captive and crawled back to his corner where he was out of the Russian's reach. Ivan laid on his back and lifted his head to watch him. He stared at him, humming. A wide grin stretched across his face.


	4. Chapter 4

The guards came in multiple times, Alfred had lost count. Each time they left him beaten and unable to move. His eyes fluttered open, vision blurry, but, he could make out the two purple eyes that never stopped their gaze. He shivered and leaned his head against the wall.

"They left food today, you should eat." Ivan said, a bowl of brown slop sat on his chest. He dipped his finger in and licked it off. It tasted of spoiled milk. Ivan pushed the other bowl towards the traumatized youth.

Taking caution, Alfred reached out and took the food, being sure to keep out of the Russian's range. He held the bowl to his mouth, gulping it down messily. Some escaped down his chin and slithered down his neck. Desperate for more, he licked the bowl clean.

"Still hungry?" Asked Ivan. He still had plenty left, eating it slowly. "I will share, if, I can touch you."

Alfred contemplated the risks,but, nodded in agreement. He slide his hand across the muddy floor, close enough for the man to reach. Ivan softly rested his cheek against Alfred's icy fingers. Although cold, it gave him some comfort in touching another living being.

"I-Ivan?"

The older man's eyes snapped up quickly. It had been quite some time since he had heard Alfred speak, other than cries of pain.

"Da?"

Alfred would not make contact with his eyes.

"When I first met you I told you my name, didn't I?" His voice was soft and raspy.

"Da, this is truth."

"Will you say it?"

A smirk passed Ivan's lips.

"This is an interesting request."

"Just do it." Said Alfred sternly. "Please, say my name."


	5. Chapter 5

"Alfred." Ivan said under his breath. "Shall I say it again?"

His sarcasm was poorly received. The American's eyes narrowed and his hand jolted away. He snatched up the bowl of mush from the other's chest, gulping it down. Some trickled down the wrong pipe making him cough. Alfred covered his mouth with his arm, spitting off to side when the coughing subsided. He stacked the bowl with the other and leaned his head back. Ivan watched the adam's apple of his neck bob.

"Do you think we will get out of here?"

"Yes." The paler of the two men shrugged."Alive? I do not know." Alfred's eyes went to the door. They were as blue as ever.

"I don't understand why we are here."

"I did not, til you came."

Alfred sat up and gave the Ivan his full attention.

"You know why?"

"Da." Ivan chuckled and brushed his hair away from his eyes. "We are not normal. Normal humans would not be able to survive these conditions, but we have. We starve, yet, do not die. Not a single bone has broken in our bodies, no beating has left us unable to move, only temporarily. Our bruises fade away quickly and our pain subsides much faster than it should. "

"That is insane." Alfred said, dismissing the idea entirely. "You are mad."

"How much it is hard to believe, this is truth. Whatever we are, we are not normal." The man on his back, sat up and bent over. "Watch." He said, enticing Alfred. His eyes poked around the Russian's large muscular body.

Ivan took hold of one of his shackled feet and crushed it in his hands. The cracking of bones made Alfred's full stomach lurch, but, he did not look away. With great force, Ivan yanked his foot free. The iron had scrapped his flesh, however, it did not appear to be severally injured. Under the skin Alfred could see the bones rearrange themselves back to their places, he backed away.

"What were you, part of a circus?"

"I am just as surprised." Laughed Ivan running cold fingers over his bruised ankle. He flashed his eyes to the fearful American.

With his foot free, Alfred could no longer move out of Ivan's reach. He pulled his chain, forcing him close. The smell of rotten milk from the American's breath tinged his nose. Alfred was terror stricken, unable to move away. Ivan touched his cheek gently and smiled.

"I have decided on helping you, do not fear me."

Alfred no longer saw the man as human.

"Get off me." He glared and smacked his hand away. "I don't know what the fuck you are, but stay the hell away from me."

"You are the same, Alfred." Ivan said, his eyes intensified. "I can show you proof."

He seized Alfred's throat and tightened his hold. The youth struggled, til his eyes rolled back into his head. There was a loud crunch of his neck breaking and then he crumpled onto the muddy floor.


	6. Chapter 6

Alfred groaned in pain when he awoke. His bruised neck stung and his head throbbed. He suddenly remembered Ivan attacking him and quickly sat up. The Russian was sitting with his legs crossed.

"Sleep well?" He asked with a dimpled smile. "You looked so peaceful."

The shackle was gone around Alfred's ankle, but the dark bruised remained. Ivan had taken the liberty of removing it while he was out.

"What did you do to me?" Demanded Alfred. He touched his neck, but, jerked his fingers away, wincing.

"I broke your neck."

"You..."

The American swallowed dryly, remembering the cracking of bone just before things went dark. His focus went to the door. The sound of it being unlocked made his stomach drop. Ivan stood up. He was much taller than Alfred as realized.

"Will you be joining me?" The Russian asked, holding out his hand towards him. Alfred took it without much thought. His hand was rough and frozen to the touch. It took Alfred a moment to gain balance on his feet. He had not stood in a long time and his footing was wobbly. "Do not strain yourself too much."

The heavy door opened and guards flooded inside. Ivan avoided their hand-swung weapons, managing to steal a nightstick. He moved gracefully, bashing the guard's head in. His movements were almost like dancing, much lighter on his feet than someone of his size was expected to be. As he fought, he smiled. It sent a shiver down Alfred's spine. He was clearing enjoying his revenge.

One got passed the Russian and advanced at Alfred. He dodged him, sending a fist into the guard's gut. Alfred had been in his share of out-numbered fights. When in the airforce, his street brawling was well known.

Ivan was surprised that the American was holding his own against the swarm of black uniformed men. Alfred had seemed so beaten, but, he assumed the strength to fight was due to a rush in adrenaline. The guards suddenly stopped their advances, an eerie silence falling over the room. Five men were sprawled around, some bleeding out onto the muddy ground. Ivan proceeded in removing the largest of the guard's uniform.

"Why did they stop?" Alfred whispered.

Ivan, pulling on a pair of slacks. They were too short for him, his purple ankles exposed. "Perhaps they are waiting with guns just outside the door?" He slipped on the heavy wool coat only able to fasten one of its many silver buttons.

"If they are, we're as good as dead."

"Ah, ah, aah." Cooed Ivan, placing a cold thumb to Alfred's chin. "Death does not come to us so easily, da? If you do not remember, I could demonstrate that for you again."

"Fuck off." Growled Alfred, shoving away his hand.


	7. Chapter 7

Ivan laughed and took off the pants of another guard, handing them to Alfred.

"Dress before we venture out." He said, smiling.

Quickly, Alfred put them on, back turned. The zipper would only zip halfway. He tried to force it up, sucking in his stomach.

Ivan poked his head out the door. Outside the room, was a long narrow hallway. It was dark and led in both directions. He stepped out, pulling Alfred along with him.

"Don't touch me." Alfred whispered.

"After you." Ivan gestured to the left.

"How do you know this is the right way?"

"I do not." Answered Ivan, shrugging his shoulders.

"Great."

Glaring, Alfred went ahead of him. His eyes had gotten progressively worse from the beatings. He squinted to see, using the wet, filth covered wall for a guide. With haste, they moved down the concrete corridor.

The hallway made a sharp turn and dead ended in front of two weathered iron doors. A flickering fluorescent light swayed overhead, making the faded LAB-1 painted on the door visible. Ivan pushed one of the double doors open. The rusted hinges squeaked, echoing through the corridor. They both hurried inside, closing the door behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

The two weary men had entered a large room. It was lined with huge metal pipes that snaked up the walls and disappeared in the ceiling. Some of the pipes leaked fluid. Small puddles gathered in damaged areas of the tiled floor. Most of the room was filled with round cylinder shaped aquariums that were arranged in rows.

"What the hell are these?" Alfred questioned, weaving through the glass columns.

The fluid was murky, making it hard to see what they contained. He walked up to one and cupped his hands to the glass, peering inside. A shift in the tank, moved some of the sediments exposing a pale human arm. Alfred jolted back bumping into Ivan.

"They must be like us." He said sorrowfully.

"Th-they still alive?"

Ivan reached out and touched the glass gently. There was a small label on the glass that had the name of the person contained inside, followed by a serial number.

"Da, I believe so."

"So, they can them up, then what? What is the point in all this?"

"Tell me, when you were captured and brought here, what of it do you remember?"

Alfred tried to find those memories, but, he had none.

"I cannot remember."

"I do not recall it either. Not a single memory of what I was doing in my life. I do not know the age of my daughter, my home, where I worked." Said Ivan, looking at the bruises circling his wrists. "Not even my full name. How long does it take to forget such things? If we were to escape, where would we go if we have no memory?"

Frantically, Alfred racked his brain. The Russian was right. He himself could not remember the life he had been living before.

"Regardless, I aint going to let them put me in a test tube!"

Ivan shoved Alfred onto one of the tanks and cupped a hand over his mouth.

"Hush." He hissed. "Now is not a good time to be yelling."

Alfred calmed down and was released. He trailed Ivan, walking further into the room.

"Ow..." His foot landed on something sharp. "I stepped on something." He whispered, wincing.

Ivan reared around. He bent down to investigate, lifting his foot. A large piece of glass stuck out of his heel. He pulled it free and scanned the floor, it was covered with shards.

"There is glass everywhere, be careful." He stood and continued on.

Straining to see the ground, Alfred, tried his best to avoid the glass.

Ivan had gone farther ahead. He had discovered one of the tanks broken. It looked as though the captive inside had smashed it open. A chuck of the container still remained intact. It had a small label on it, like the others.

_Ivan Briginski, 862-172291._


	9. Chapter 9

Slowly, Ivan backed away. He felt behind his left ear, running his fingers over the numbers branded into his flesh. Dizzy, he leaned against a tank. He felt sick, heaving dryly as he hunched over holding his stomach. If not for being empty, he would have vomited.

"Hey, you okay?" Alfred questioned, keeping his distance.

"Nyeht." He flashed his pale mauve eyes up at the concerned youth. "I need to touch you, just for a moment."

Reluctantly, he nodded.

Ivan gently brushed away Alfred's hair, checking the sensitive area behind his ears. Alfred trembled from the contact.

"Nothing."

Relieved, he moved away his hand.

"What were you looking for?" Alfred touched the spot, watching Ivan close. The elder man smiled meekly and flashed a threatening look over his shoulder.

"It is better if you do not know."

"What is that suppose to mean?" The American said peeved. "We are in this together. If you know something, then, SPIT IT OUT!" His fist hit the nearest tank. The glass cracked and liquid began leaking out.

Eyes wide, Ivan pushed Alfred aside.

"You broke it."

Behind the glass, the subject contained was thrashing. His forest green eyes locked onto Ivan's gaze. Long brown hair surrounded his delicate face. He grasped his throat, mouth gaped, drowning in the unknown substance.

An alarm sounded and red lights flashed.

"Dammit." Ivan, unwillingly, snatched Alfred by the arm and ran.

The American struggled to keep up. Footsteps were approaching, but, Ivan did not know where they came. He lost his footing and both of them crashed to the ground. Alfred lifted himself up, finding that they had been cornered. A wall stood in their path and the guards were quickly surrounding them. This time, they carried guns.


	10. Chapter 10

"Why are you doing this to us?" Snarled Ivan. "WHY?"

Without hesitation, the guards fired. Out of the barrels of the guns came metal barbs. They pierced the skin causing the two captives to spasm as electric current surged through their bodies. After the painful shocks had settled, both were left incapacitated lying in their own secretions.

Ivan was the first to regain awareness. He had been moved to an unfamiliar room. The walls were of thick steel with several strange medical instruments adorning them. A long metal table was in the center, covered in a blood stained sheet. Overhead, a large round light eliminated Alfred, who laid strapped to the top.

A heavy chain was secured around Ivan's neck. His arms had been amputated. Blood soaked bandages were wrapped around his shoulders, covering the crudely done sutures. He was dizzy from the lose of blood.

"Alfred." His voice was soft and meek.

"Ah-ow..." Groaned Alfred. He felt sick and his muscles ached. "Fuck."

Slowly his head turned towards Ivan's voice. Squinting to see, he could barely make out the blurry figure near the wall.

"Are you alright?" Ivan asked. Sweat was dripping from his forehead. He was running a high fever, most certainly from shock.

"Yeah, I think so. You?"

Alfred could not see past the metal bed. Ivan chuckled and sighed.

"Da."

"You sound cheerful." The American snuffed. "Get your ass over here and give me a hand."

Ivan smirked.

"They have me chained well."

"Well, break your bones like last time!" Alfred said annoyed.

It seemed Ivan was only secured by the single shackle about his neck. The elder man shifted his legs. Extended, he could almost touch a leg to the table Alfred was tethered to.

"I remember something now, about my little Anastasia. Her eyes, they were of the softest green. In that room, someone behind the glass brought back that memory." Whispered Ivan. "I wonder if that lovely creature still lives?"

It would be the loud mouthed American's fault if the beautiful lad was dead.

"Why don't you start worrying about our situation instead?"

One of the metal barbs was still lodged into Alfred's forearm, it glistened. The straps that held the youth were nothing more than thick cloth.

"Have you dislocated your shoulder before?"

The metal slab was on locked wheels.

"Once, while playing football. It hurt like a bitch." Grumbled Alfred. "I don't think I can do it on purpose."

Ivan pulled his legs close to his body.

"You need to shift all your weight to one side, towards me."

"Will that work?"

"Da, trust me." Ivan nodded with a reassuring smile.

Alfred jerked his body to one side, grunting. The table rocked, then, crashed to the ground. The American held his breath, holding back cries of pain. His shoulder had hit hard.

"Good boy." Ivan chuckled.

"Fuck you, bastard." Alfred said, wincing.

Carefully, using his toes, the Russian took hold of the barb in his arm. Alfred's eyes widened.

"Hush, do not scream. This will hurt." Ivan whispered calmly. Slowly, he pulled the metal object out of his comrade's flesh.

"Damn." Alfred cursed, clenching his teeth. "Do it."

With a sharp tug, the long barb was pulled free. Blood gushed from the hole it had made.

"Not so bad, was it?"

Alfred gave Ivan a cold glare.


	11. Chapter 11

It took some time to saw through the fabric. Alfred pulled his arm free and took the barb, working on the other side, quickly.

"You are welcome." Ivan panted, exhausted.

The American glared at him. He did not enjoy being patronized.

"I will pick your locks when I'm done."

The elder man smirked and rested his head on the wall. He noticed the long scar stretching across Alfred's chest. It looked freshly made, but, it was near completely healed.

"I think they did something to your insides." He spoke soft.

"What you going on about?" Pain shot through the young American's body. His heart felt as though it was being crushed. He dropped the barb and clawed at the incision. "What did they do to me?" Alfred said through clenched teeth.

Ivan's eyes fluttered. He tried desperately to stay conscious, but, drifted out just as a dozen pairs of black boots surrounded them.

The men unlocked Ivan from the wall and drug him from the room. A deep red trail was left in his wake, staining the tiled floor.

"WHERE ARE YOU TAKING HIM! BASTARDS!"

Alfred's table was pushed upright and the uniformed men began to secure him back down. A piece of tape was forced over his mouth.

"MMmmph!"

He was pushed after Ivan, out of the laboratory and down a hall to a well lit room. Alfred was left, hearing the door close and be locked. White walls lined with mirrors surrounded him. He could see his reflection in the low ceiling. Ivan was bleeding on the floor next to him, his hair plastered over his face. The sounds of chatter could be heard around them.

They were being watched.

"Our next bid is two for the price of one! Both have handicaps, but would make excellent practice dummies for the Arena."

A male voice with an English accent spoke over a loud speaker.

"Ivan Braginski, was imprisoned in his homeland, Russia, for the murder of his eight year old daughter. His body was in hibernation at our facility for the past 1,200 years after a failed execution. He is classified as severely dangerous and a type 2 escapee risk. His arms have been amputated to ensure safety while handling. He is strong and agile, making him ideal for breeding purposes. The other specimen is a recently new find! Alfred F. Jones, an American pilot who was found frozen in the Antarctic. His eyes are poor and requires corrective lenses. Not recommended for breeding, but, a good sparing partner for your potential champion. Both have been equipped with Cardiac Cages, to help control and humanly euthanize, when needed. This is a final sale, no refunds nor warranties offered. The biding will start at 3, 000 Glads!"


	12. Chapter 12

"That is insane." Laughed a short blonde man with a well defined brow. His eyes were green and he was dressed in wealthy clothing. "Who would pay that much for trash?" He was English.

" _5,000 Glads!_ " Cried out the child near him. He had a simular appearance.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Hissed the Englishman, pulling the boy by the arm. "I did not come here to purchase anything. Especially, not a broken piece of rubbish. "

"I want them." Said the boy, giving him a stern look. His eyes were a crisp blue. "Kirkland, you owe me. You said if I behaved around your boss, you would get me something."

"Yes, a toy or a sweet, not two Soulless. Who is going to feed them and take care of them?"

"Soulless do not, have, to eat." The youth stuck out his tongue. "Stupid Drunken Wanker."

"6,000 Glads!" Yelled another man within the crowd.

"Do not speak to me in such a way. I am your father." He whispered, quickly flashing a look over to an elder gentlemen in a brown suit. He was heavy set and smoking a cigar not far from them. "If my boss hears you, I will..."

"You will what?" Sassed the child. "Tell my mother? Oh, thats right, you cannot, cause she was a soulless whore and you are a raging alcoholic."

"You little brat." Grumbled his father. " _7,000 Glads!_ "

The youth smirked and folded his arms in satisfaction looking at his soon to be possessions.

 _"SOLD FOR 7,000 GLADS_!"


	13. Chapter 13

Alfred heard the door swung open. He squinted his eyes, making out what appeared to be a woman dressed head to toe in white. Upon coming closer, it came apparent she was actually a he. Two large guards trailed behind him.

A small hand, smoothed the hair from Alfred's face. "Alright sweety, lets get you cleaned up for your owner." He had mid length blonde hair pulled back into a bun at the top of his head."Boys, could you get the other?"

The young American was pushed from the room and through a door adjacent from the one he had just been. Ivan was dragged behind him and tossed inside after.

"My name is Felix, I am a Soulless too." The feminine blonde dabbed at Alfred's forehead with a warm wet cloth. It smelled sweet of lilacs. "You probably do not even know what I am talking about." He laughed and produced a slight smile.

"Me, you, and your friend here, are all Soulless. We do not die of natural cause, our bodies are far more durable and we stop aging when we reach maturity. Truth is our kind has always been around, but, secretive until about 600 years ago. Some of us were kept in facilities, like this one we are in. Frozen in time for science and used as test subjects in barbaric experiments. In the Great War our kind were used as soldiers. Nations would send our people to fight rather than normal humans. Afterwards, our people became considered objects. Bought and sold for sport fighting, amongst other things. However, more and more of our kind began to be born, so, 356 years ago a new law was put into place. Roughly it stated that, if the Soulless was born after the Great War, they had all the rights of a normal human being. That is why Soulless, like you cutie, are being searched for. Facilities are running low on Legal Soulless and loosing money."

The tape over Alfred's mouth was gently removed.

"So you wake us up and beat us half to death, THEN SELL US AS SLAVES?"

"Hush, hush, slave is such a primitive title." The boy dressed in white sighed. "You are a high valued possession."

"I am a human being, not a damn poodle!" Alfred spat. "Let me go!"

"Where will you go?"

Silence.

"You have no family nor life to return to." Said Felix, wiping Alfred's chest clean. "What is wrong with having someone to give your life purpose? You were bought by a very wealthy man, I am sure he will treat you well."

Alfred looked down at Ivan sprawled on the floor.

"Is it true, about his arms?"

Felix shut his forest eyes and nodded.

"It is a shame, but, he committed such a repulsive crime." He cast a vicious glare down at the unconscious Russian. "I have no sympathy for murderers."

Alfred had been cleaned and dressed in crisp new clothing. His arms were tethered behind his back. Ivan, on the other hand, was left naked still hunched in a pile on the tile. Felix kicked him with the edge of his boot.

"Up!" He demanded.

Ivan's eyes opened half way. He shifted his gaze up at the blonde and sat himself up. Looking past Felix, he saw Alfred fully dressed.

"Alfred?" His voice was raspy.

"Get up." Commanded Felix, un-patiently. He kicked the man at his feet, hard. "I said UP!"

"Hey." Alfred spoke sternly, standing up from the table. "I will help him, untie me."

Felix hesitated, then rolled his eyes letting the American free. Alfred bent beside the armless man.

"Ivan, I am going to carry you out of here. Okay?"

Ivan looked as though he would pass out any second.

"D-da." He whispered, leaning into him. His body felt warm against him.

Carrying Ivan with him, Alfred was led out to what Felix referred to as the Meeting Hall. He walked, favoring his left leg.

The boy and his father stood waiting for them.

"About time." Grumbled the impatient man, folding his arms. "Hurry it up, I do not have the whole bloody day!"

"Go on." Felix motioned with his hands. "I am not allowed any further."

The young American kept his head lowered and anger in check, continuing towards them. If it had not been for Ivan in his arms, he would have punched the caterpillar browed brit in the face, and then some.


	14. Chapter 14

"My name is Toby, your owner." Said the child, grinning up at Alfred. "You will be my servants and do as I command til I am satisfied."

"Right." The American said in monotone.

He was lead down a short set of stairs to a pair of glass doors. He squinted his eyes against the sun. It had been ages since he had seen the light of day. The kid pulled at Alfred's pant leg motioning towards the limo that sat waiting just outside.

"Come on then." He said, holding open the vehical door.

Alfred got inside, careful of Ivan's head. The youth began to climb in after, but the boy was stopped.

"Sit up front." Said the kid's father.

"What? No."

"Now." The man said sternly.

With a scowl, Toby got in the passenger side and Kirkland got in sitting across from the two men.

"I am Arthur Kirkland." Said the man crossing his legs. "You cost me half a month worth of salary, worthless trash. Are you listening?"

"Yeah." Grumbled Alfred, watching out the window as they drove through the busy city flooded with traffic. Allot of what he saw was blurred beyond recognition.

" The boy has problems attending school, you and the cripple will escort him their and back. I also expect the chores to be done around the mansion, understood?"

"Sure."

"I have called a doctor to do a full physical on you both. He will be waiting when we arrive."

"What is the point in that?" Mumbled Alfred. "Not like I am a person to you."

"You have quite a mouth, for a piece of property."

"I am, not, property."

"According to the law and your papers, you are." The Brit leaned in, intertwining his fingers. "By the looks of your mate, they did a number on you both. I doubt either of you retained any of your training."

"Training?"

"Yes. As a natural Soulless, reconditioning is a must. The more resistance, the harsher the training. You must have put up a fight."

"Wouldn't you? I was beaten for god knows how long, til I could not even remember my own name."

"This is the point, to rid you of memories. Barbaric, but, effective." The Brit raised his hand and Alfred flinched. "I will not strike you. There has been enough of that." He said, gentle touching the American's scared cheek. "How bad is your vision?"

Kirkland's green eyes shone bright with care and sympathy. Alfred trembled , then turned away his face.

"I can see just fine."

"Lying is not your strong suit. I will get your eyes examined as well and purchase a pair of spectacles for you. Cannot have you running into walls." He sighed.

Ivan moved his head, face burying its way into his stomach. Alfred jumped, startled. The sun shone against his death white skin, frightened it may burn, Alfred shifted to shield him from the raze.

"There is another thing."

Alfred snapped up his gaze.

"If you lay a finger on my boy, I will euthanize you both without an ounce of empathy."


	15. Chapter 15

The doctor had come and gone. Alfred sat on one of the full beds in a large room, on the other laid Ivan. Expensive linen covered the mattress, luxuries decor and furniture were placed throughout the room. The sweet smell of cinnamon came from a nearby candle on the end-table beside a pair of glasses that had been left for Alfred.

There was a tap at the half parted door. Alfred's gaze snapped up from the elaborate gold and brown rug.

"Clothing has been ordered for the both of you, it will arrive tomorrow morning." Spoke Kirkland, he walked inside.

"I wish I had died."

The Englishman sighed, taking the spectacles from the end-table. Although the man before him was much older than he appeared, he was truly just a young lad in a foreign world.

"Perhaps, there is a reason you were born this way. Maybe you were born at the wrong moment and have a purpose in this time."

"To what? Wash dishes?" He glared at the Brit. "You know nothing."

"I know much more than you think I do. My son and myself have both inherited the Soulless gene, although the boy does not know this. Neither of us are on record."

"Is that right?" Sneered the American. He stood, a good foot taller than Arthur. "You filth, you would enslave one of your own?"

"I have never partaken in buying, before now. That was only to keep Toby quiet. He believes his mother was a Soulless, even untrue, he would have to be tested for the gene. I must keep him safe."

"Well then, if that is the case, I don't feel so bad about this!"

Alfred swung his fist at Arthur's head, but missed. He stumbled into the end-table knocking red wax out of the candle holder and onto its surface.

With anger, Kirkland grabbed the youth by his arm and raised the back of his hand.

"Go ahead, hit me!" Yelled Alfred. "Do it!"

Arthur could not.

He pushed him away making him fall onto the bed.

"I am not a bad person, Mr. Jones." Said Arthur. "You are lucky to have been bought by me, instead of being used in a test lab, or even worse, a toy for a modern day gladiator. You have lost dinner for the night, clean the mess you have made."

With as much gentleness he could muster, the Englishman slide the spectacles onto Alfred's face. They suited him rather well. Now that Alfred could see, he saw his buyers face clearly. The man's voice was brassy and hinted of age, but, he did not appear any older than himself. He was short and had the greenest eyes Alfred had ever seen. His hair was of a yellowed blonde cut short to show his thick eyebrows; his only manly feature.

"How old are you?"

Asked the American.

Arthur smoothed back his fringe, "Much older than yourself." He stated and took his leave.


	16. Chapter 16

Under the pleasant cradle of the warm velvet throw, Alfred immersed into slumber. Dreams, he would not remember when he awoke, twisted around his subconscious mind. Daybreak came, then ended. Two weeks passed, before a sweet gravelly voice broke through. Quickly, the comfort of the black void faded and the troubles of reality resurfaced themselves.

Crusted eyes opened unto a red blind of blanket. Alfred turned, moving it aside.

Dressed in fine clothing and hair neatly groomed, was none other than Ivan. He sat at the edge of the mattress, letting his dark colored blazer slide from his shoulders.

"So now you are awake?" Said the pale Russian. "It has been weeks."

Alfred's body was stiff, he struggled to sit himself up.

"What?" He spoke hoarsely, his breath stale. "That long?"

"Yes. There were several attempts to wake you, but, you remained unresponsive. The man who bought us ordered everyone to let you sleep til you awoke on your own. For one reason or another, he has taken a liking to you."

"oh." Alfred whispered. "H-how are you, um, feeling?"

"I have no arms, how is it you think I am feeling? Even simple things I cannot do, I must be waited on for everything. If hell exists, I am there."

"Let me help." Said Alfred, deliriously. He was shaking. "Are you trying to get undressed?" Asked the American, he reached out and began to undo Ivan's button down shirt.

Ivan lowered his head.

"I should tell him you are awake." He pulled away and went for the door. "You look not so good, you should relax."

Down a long corridor, there was a room with a light on. Ivan kicked open the door, smashing the vase that previously sat on a small end-table. It now laid in pieces across the pasley rug. The Englishman sat at a large desk, back turned. He went still.

"Braginski." Grumbled Arthur, spinning about. "And what do I owe the pleasure?"

Ivan's eyes were dark and villainous.

"He has awaken."

Kirkland's demeanor changed instantly. He stood and walked hastily to the bedroom. The recently awoken young man sat rubbing his face. Arthur took the glass of water that sat on the dresser and sat next to him.

"Drink this." He said softly.

Alfred took it, cautiously, taking a few small sips. He coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You alright?" Asked Kirkland, smoothing down the youth's messed hair. "I was concerned you would not awaken. It is very common for soulless to hibernate, sometimes, for decades. Especially, after traumatic experiences."

"You are what we are, yes?" Ivan said. "That is why you have taken a liking to Alfred."

Arthur did not respond right away.

"I am." He sighed.

The Russian chuckled.

"You say we were bought for your son, why have we not met the boy?"

"As we are, he is also a soulless." Explained the Englishman. "However, Toby is different. He often hibernates and has not matured in hundreds of years. Whenever he awakes from his deep sleep, he is a blank slate and has to relearn everything all over again."

"Is he asleep now?" Asked Ivan.

"No. I sent him off to a sitter for a few weeks." Kirkland said, casting a glare at the man. "However, when he does fall into hibernation, I promise, I will free you both. The reason I have not allowed him to be near you, is you, Mr. Braginski. Since your arrival, you have nearly killed me twice and have broken twenty antique vases."

"All accidents." Shrugged Ivan.

"Right." Spat the angry Englishman. "Now that Mr. Jones is awake, I will allow you both to start your duties and meet the boy. He will be thrilled. God help us all."


	17. Chapter 17

Alfred was escorted by Kirkland to the bath down the hall. The water was already drawn. Steam hovered over the massive porcelain tub. Placed on the nearby counter top were several neatly folded towels. Without words, Arthur undid Alfred's night gown. Weary and mind numb, Jones did not protest as the gown fell away leaving him nude.

"Step into the bath, careful. Hold onto me, if you must." Said Kirkland, soft.

The youth moved slowly, clinging to the other for support. He lowered himself into the hot water. The warmth, making him shiver.

"Too hot?" Asked the Englishman, kneeling.

Alfred let go, settling in the tub as he shook his head.

Kirkland stared at the delirious man in-front of him, fondly. With gentleness, he stroked his cheek. The touch was alarming at first, but, a few moments later it brought Alfred comfort.

"I was waiting to speak with you more."

"Why?"

"I find you rather, intriguing." Arthur said, taking back his hand. "I want to know more about you."

"I don't know much about myself, sorry to disappoint." Spoke Alfred, in sarcasm. "Why are you so interested in, me? Wouldn't you have more in common with Braginski?"

"I hate that man."

"I'm not too keen of him either, but, he fought with me." The blue eyed man ran a hand through his hair.

Kirkland exhaled deeply.

"Yes, I read and according to your papers you were both contained together for over twenty years."

"T-twenty years?"

Alfred gasped.

"Yes. Braginski was held for seventy five years, with multiply cell mates. All of which turned out to be human, frozen for science or whatnot. They all passed away during the barbaric training process. By law, if an individual was born before the war and still alive, soulless or not, you are property of the state."

"Isn't there a way to test people without beating the shit out of them?"

"Now there is, but, it is recent technology. Many of the less advanced facilities, such as the one you came from, still test the old fashioned way."

"How can people allow things like that to exist?!" Blurted Alfred, angered. "Freedom is for everyone, what happened to human rights?"

Arthur chuckled.

"Freedom? Rights? The United States of America no longer exists, Mr. Jones. Most of the world is wasteland, un-inhabitable. Only a single nation remains, one created after the war, Euphenas. Which, is currently ruled by Queen Natalia Arlovskaya. " The Englishman, rolled his eyes. "She claims to be a goddess."

"People believe her?"

"A vast majority. Queen Natalia Arlovskaya aged into an old woman and was on her death bed, centuries ago. However, her physical appearance rapidly decreased back into that of a youth. She has been yo-yoing back and forth for two-hundred years, give or take." Arthur explained, standing. "I believe she is using some sort of drug, it is not natural. But, who am I to say what is natural and what is not?"

Just outside the bathroom door, Ivan had been listening closely. The Russian walked back to his room and sat upon the bed, relieved his comrade had awaken and determined to learn more of this "New World."

Over the following week and a half, Kirkland had his new properties tutored, before their introduction to his son. Although, the Russian did not seem like the scholar type, he excelled at learning. At the end of his studies he had gone far beyond his tutors teachings, learning on his own accord. Jones, however, struggled immensely.

"Ugh, I give up." Groaned Alfred. He tossed his pencil and slouched down in his chair. "Why is this necessary to look after a snot-nosed kid?"

Ivan chuckled from across the room.

"Shall we take a break from our studies?" He stood and walked to Alfred's desk. Leaning close to his ear, he spoke in a whisper,"It is nearly dinner. He hates when you are late. After-all, you are his favorite pet."

The Russian's husky voice made Alfred shiver. He shoved him aside and got up from his seat.

"I hate dinner. He always asks me a billion questions about every little part of my day and then lectures me." Jones grumbled.

"It amuses me." Ivan hummed, walking out the bedroom door.

Alfred hurried after him down the hallway, tightening his tie quickly as he walked.

"Are you going to even eat?"

"No." Said Braginski.

"You have not eaten at all since we got here." Spoke Alfred, his voice soft. He caught the larger man by his empty shirt sleeve. "I know you are starving. Even if it will not kill you...your skin and bones. I do not mind helping you eat."

Ivan stopped and slammed Alfred against the wall using his shoulder to pin him their.

"Nyet." He hissed. "I will not degrade myself any farther. If you keep pressing the issue, I will devour you."

"Then suffer!" Snarled Alfred, pushing the man away. "See if I care."

Angry, he hurried down the steps to the dining room. An amazing spread of food sprawled the length of the long table. It was lined with several oak chairs. Arthur already was at his seat at the far end, hands laced under his chin.

"You are late."

Jones rolled his eyes and exhaled deeply.

"Sorry." He said, taking his assigned seat to Kirkland's right. "I lost track of time."

"Good evening Master Kirkland." Cooed Ivan.

"Mr. Branginski." Arthur nodded, glaring. "Unusual for you to join us. Shall I call for someone to come feed you?" He said with a cruel grin.

"Not necessary."

The Russian's eye twitched, teeth clenched. He sat at the opposite end of the table, watching the two intensely.

"Suit yourself." Said Kirkland, cutting off a slab of meat and placing it onto the plate before Alfred. "Toby arrives in the morning. I have planed an outing for all three of you, sort of a meet and greet. I have a two day trip and leave at noon tomorrow, so, you will be in charge til my return, Mr. Jones."

"Okay." Alfred said. The young blonde looked down at his plate, guilt ridden for eating in front of the Russian. He shoved it away. "I'm not feeling very hungry."

"Eat. Or I will hand feed you." Warned Arthur, moving the plate back into place.

Jones'cheeks went red, cramming a roll into his mouth.

"Where, um, are we going?"

"There is a festival happening at the fairgrounds."

"It is celebration for the Queen's Birthday, da?" Braginski chimed in, his mauve gaze fixed to Kirkland.

"Yes." Arthur nodded, glaring back. "You both will need tagged to go out in a public place."

"Tagged?" Alfred asked, playing with his fork. ". . .like, cattle?"

"Yes. In the left ear lobe."

"You gotta be kidding."

"If I may ask, Mr. Kirkland, what is the purpose of your, trip?" Braginski, inquired.

"Business." The Englishman said bluntly. "None of which concerns you, Mr. Braginski."

"Oh, I see."

Jones sat in quiet discomfort and sighed.

"A-anyway, uh, Mr. Kirkla-"

"Arthur." He corrected.

"Yeah, Arthur, how was your day?" Alfred asked, trying to keep the peace.

"Productive." The man responded, with a slight smile. "And your's? How are you doing with your studies?"

"Well, not so great. I really suck at history."

"I can private tutor you, afterall, I am a part of history." Kirkland said, taking a bite of his roast beef. "I am sure you would learn a plethora more from myself, than, the crippled soviet."

Ivan chuckled, in irritation, wishing he had the hands to wring the Brit's neck.

"H-hey, Braginski is a great teacher. Its my fault, I just have trouble focusing."

"Focusing?" Repeated Arthur, dropping his utensils and looking over at the youth in concern. "Vision wise? Are your eyes worsening? Your prescription is already quite high, but, perhaps, I can find you a surgeon."

"What? NO! Calm down, my eyes are fine." Spoke Alfred. However, he did not know his eyes sucked that bad. "I can see 100% with my glasses."

"Good."

Kirkland relaxed. They both finished their meal in silence, partly due to Braginski's relentless staring. Alfred devoured his plate first and stood.

"May I be excused?"

"You may." Arthur nodded, dabbing a napkin to his lips. "Escort Mr. Braginski with you. His presence is sickening me."


	18. Chapter 18

"Well, wasn't that fun?" Alfred scoffed, as he and Braginski traveled down the corridor back to their room. "You two just can't get along, can you?"

"I thought it was pleasant." Crooned his armless companion, smirking.

Jones glanced over at him, unamused. He opened to room door and Ivan walked inside.

"Please, keep the crazy down to a minium tomorrow."

"Da." Sighed Braginski.

Alfred shut the door behind himself and un-pinned Ivan's jacket from his shoulders, placing it on the back of the desk chair. The man had a distinct scent that he had become accustom to. A mixture of musky wood and fermented peach. He reared back around and undid the buttons of Braginski's shirt, revealing his sunken abdomen. It caused Alfred's full stomach to turn.

Ivan sat on the mattress, kicking off his shoes.

" I do not trust Kirkland. I have been keeping eye on him, he is lying about his trip and I do not be knowing why."

"Maybe he just doesn't like you enough to tell you the truth." Yawned Alfred, sitting next to him. "I will ask him in private before he leaves."

"Do you trust me, Alfred?"

Alfred snorted.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, glaring over at Ivan.

There was silence.

"Alfred." Ivan spoke, near whisper. "Bring me a glass of milk and a piece of bread, please."

Alfred turned to the Russian in surprise. The elder man's gaze was transfixed to the rug, face sullen. Without a word, the youth stood and hurried off to retrieve his request. The dining table luckily had yet to be cleared. With haste, he poured a tall glass of milk. A wine colored napkin covered a brass bowl filled with plump dinner rolls.

"Still hungry?"

The voice startled Alfred, his outstretched hand frozen. Kirkland approached closer, smoothing the crochet table cloth with his finger tips.

"Mr. Kirkland." Sighed Alfred, calming. He dropped his arm.

"Did I give you a fright?" Asked the Englishman with a slight grin. "Also, is it so difficult to call me Arthur?"

"Huh, s-sorry."

Green eyes flashed to the bowl.

"Would you like those to be warmed?"

"No, its fine."

"Are you sure?"

Arthur took another step towards him. It was then, Alfred, noticed the man was intoxicated. His speech slurred and using the table for balance.

"Sir, uh, A-Arthur, I think you've drunken too much."

The drunk fell forward clinging to the other's shirt causing a button to pop off onto the floor. Kirkland laughed and peered upwards, the alcohol on his breath tinging Alfred's nose.

"You are a handsome young man." Spoke Arthur, a friendly hand finding its way to Jones' face. He rubbed his thumb over the youth's cheekbone in admiration. "Kiss me."

"I-I must return to my room."

Alfred pushed the man away, blushing. He snatched a roll and the glass of milk, nearly splashing the contents out as he made a hasty retreat. Ivan was sprawled out on his mattress, sitting up when his flustered comrade entered. The Russian observed him for a short moment.

"What did he do?"

"What?" Said Jones abruptly. "N-nothing! Who? Don't, worry bout it, just, here."

He placed the glass to Ivan's lips.

His mauve eyes closed as he took a small sip of the sweet liquid. With that, Braginski could not restrain himself. Greedily he gulped down every last drop til he licked at the rim as it was pulled away, yearning for more. Ivan's eyes flashed open, face hot with embarrassment. Alfred said nothing. Emotionless, as he broke off a piece of beard and held it in place of the glass. It was quickly devoured.

A lump sat in the Russian's throat. Ashy hair covering the shame. He searched for words to say, but, none were suited. Stomach full, the taste still lingering, he sat in silence.

Alfred stood and put out the desk light. He dropped his trousers getting into bed.


	19. Chapter 19

A small hand pat Ivan on the cheek. His lid was pried open, focusing his gaze on a blonde child sitting upon his chest. Braginski grinned sleepily at the curious youth.

"Young master." He greeted, voice broken. "How nice it is to meet you."

The boy smiled wide at his words. He moved aside, allowing the man to sit up.

"Quite right. What is your name?"

"I am Ivan Braginski, young master."

"You are very tall, like a giant!" Stated Toby, climbing onto Ivan's back. His thin arms wrapped around his neck.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. In fact, those gits at school would think twice before messin' with me if I brought you in for show and tell. I can imagine their faces, I can!"

Ivan chuckled.

"Should we wake Mr. Jones, sir?"

"Is that, that, ones name?" The child pointed over to Alfred who was still fast asleep. His backside was high in the air, laying facedown in a pillow.

"Da." Nodded Braginski.

"Does he always sleep like that?"

"Da."

Toby laughed.

"That is so lame!"

Ivan stood, the child still clinging to his nape. He swung his legs about the man's waist.

"Wake up, servant!" Yelled Toby, hopping down.

"What?!" Alfred rolled out of bed, landing at the child's feet. Tangled in his sheet, he wiggled free a hand pulling away the cover. "Oh." He sighed, looking up at Toby groggily. "Just you."

"Just me?" Mocked the lad, crossing his arms. "Servant, know your place!" He lifted his foot, bringing it down quickly. However, just before it was to hit Alfred in the stomach, the youth was snatched by his father.

"Don't you dare!" Kirkland roared. The man was half dressed and grumpy. His eyes were bloodshot and lined with dark circles. A good portion of his morning had been spent with his head in a toilet. "If this is how you will treat your new toys, I will donate them to the iron mines!"

"You would not." Gasped the child.

"I WOULD!" Arthur released his son, casting a cold look down upon Alfred. Braginski watched, intrigued, wondering what had transpired the night before to deserve such harshness. Jones pulled himself up from the floor. "Now then, here, tag them."

A metal device, was placed into the hands of the youngster. Kirkland covered his mouth with his had and quickly exiting the room to the nearest bathroom.

"Fine." Sighed Toby, shoving the object into Alfred."You, hold this to your ear and pull the trigger, do the same to him." He walked away, arms about his back. "Be ready to go in five minutes!"

"Nice kid, huh?" Grumbled Alfred.

Braginski laughed and leaned in close to his comrade.

"Left ear, do not be forgetting."

The tagging was quick and relatively painless. Alfred looked in the mirror that hung on the wardrobe door at the large silver earring. Engraved on it, was a eight digit number too small for him to read.

"Did you just notice you are handsome?" Braginski cooed.

Blushing, Alfred smirked, playfully hitting the Russian on the shoulder.

"Shut up."

They laughed, Ivan the first to leave the bedroom. Alfred took one last glance at himself, adjusting his spectacles and followed after him. Toby was waiting impatiently at the front door of the mansion. His small arms crossed and one of his polished shoes tapping at the tiled floor. Next to him stood Arthur Kirkland, wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses to hide his obvious hangover.

"About time!" Spoke Toby.

"Yes, well, your limo will be here shortly. I must be going, I am already late for my flight." The Englishman grumbled, leaving. The outside air was chilly.

Alfred stepped back. His mind spinning, curious and hesitant about the world outside the massive house's walls. He had only seen in photographs the foreign world and only briefly experienced for himself. Braginski brushed against his companion.

"The sky is still blue and the grass still green." He whispered. "Do not fear."

"Shut up, I'm fine." Alfred spoke, chewing his lip in uncertainty as they waited for their ride.

Ivan frowned. He knew when the youth was lying and hated it. There was no reason to lie to him.

"Young Master, may we wait outside upon the porch?"

Ivan's words were like velvet, causing a shiver to creep down Alfred's spine. The American gritted his teeth, knowing that Ivan was trying to get under his skin and he was succeeding.

"Yes, please, master!" Alfred roared and tore open the door, holding it for the child.

The outburst startled Toby. He nodded, quietly walking through the doorway. Pleased with himself, Ivan walked proceeding him. A grin directed at Alfred as he passed.

The mansion sat in a rural area, surrounded by farmland. Not far past the iron gate the city could be seen along the clouded horizon of the cornfields. Small orb-like objects flew between the tall skyscrapers. Ivan watched from the concrete steps, trying to remember from his studies what they were called.

The corners of Braginski's mouth upturned as Alfred adjoined him, casting a resentful glare. A black vehicle came up the drive and parked at the steps. The tall, well dressed driver came around the side and opened the door. His skin was olive in color and his dark hair hung out from under the hat he wore. Toby was quick to get inside followed by Ivan and Alfred.


	20. Chapter 20

The city was rather small, but, it was built high. Glassy buildings reflected the bustling streets below. Situated in the center was a park where a large circular stadium stood. It was much older than the surrounding structures and had been decorated for the occasion. Festival banners hung from the five entrances.

Food stalls lined the crowded pathways leading up to the building. Amongst the grass, families sat on spread blankets. Children's laughter came from the nearby playset. Hidden by a shroud of tall, neatly trimmed bushes.

"Interesting." Said Braginski, examining a modern day drinking fountain. He and Alfred were waiting for the young master outside the restrooms. In amazement, Ivan played with the series of foot pedals that controlled the temperature and strength of the water stream. "I do not understand why one would prefer hot water." 

Leaning against the wall, Jones watched in boredom. His attention quickly switched to the crowd. Most were dressed in what Alfred assumed was modern day casual wear. Ladies wore light colored fitted skirts trimmed with tassels and high collared blouses. The men were dressed sharply in dark blues, black, and tan slacks. Their dress shirts elaborately embroidered. Knee high boots were common amongst men and woman ranging from a neutral black to bright neon green.

Bells began to chime in the distance.

"The Queen has arrived!" Toby exclaimed, suddenly appearing next to Alfred. "Hurry sloths, we need to get to our seats before they are taken!"

The kid hurried towards the stadium, shoving his way through the mass of people.

"H-hey! Wait, don't run off on your own!" Jones called after him.

Ivan was quick to follow. His movements graceful, trying not to loose site of the boy. Alfred attempted the same, but, he was quickly consumed by the horde.

The child had halted. Braginski approached him, slowing, as he realized the crowd had also ceased. Their heads were bowed, all activity frozen. The chimes grew louder and people moved aside to form a path as two hooded men directed them to do so. Ivan stepped back, allowing them to pass mimicking the crowd. A young woman followed close behind.

She was dressed in a bright blue gown. A lengthy, white cowl covered her head. It was made of lace and ran over the shoulders, trailing behind her like a bridal train. The woman stopped, pulling back her veil. She was gorgeous. Her eyes were a memorizing shade of indigo and her pale face was framed by long ashen hair.

"You, raise your head." She spoke, glancing over at Braginski. "What is your name?"

With surprise, he did as he was instructed. Raising his head and greeting the young queen with a kind smile.

"Ivan Braginski, my Queen."

The queen came close. Lacking emotion, she eyed him over.

"To whom do you belong?" She asked.

"I serve the Kirkland's, my Queen. This is my Young Master, Toby Kirkland."

Her blank gaze went to the child whos head was still bowed in respect.

"I see." She said, replacing her hood and returning to place. "Roderich, Matthew, let us proceed."

With her words, the procession continued.

Braginski watched the queen enter the stadium. As soon as she disappeared within, the crowd came back to life. Toby's cheeks were red with embarrassment. The Russian bent down, chuckling.

"Shall we go join the festivities inside?" He asked.

"Hey, you two!" Alfred called out, breaking through the wall of people. "We need to stay together. No more running off." He sighed.

"Da." Ivan nodded.

Abruptly, the entrance doors burst open. Distressed people flooded out of the building in terror. Screams echoed from inside as mass panic ensued. Alfred snatched Toby and pulled him close, the stampede knocking them about.

"SOMEONE TRIED TO ASSASSINATE THE QUEEN!" Someone cried out.


	21. Chapter 21

Military reinforcements arrived shortly, roping off the park and evacuating pedestrians to safety. Braginski was surprised to see the limo awaiting them beyond the traffic block. The driver stood holding the door open for them.

"How exciting!" Toby said, face plastered to the back window. "I wonder if there was a pistol fight? I wish I would have been inside!"

The ride back to the Kirkland Estate was longer than it should have been. Traffic was slow moving and many streets had been closed off. Alfred had taken interest in the automatic door lock, ignoring Toby's excessive talking.

"Great." Toby sneered. "He is back early."

Kirkland was sitting on the porch steps. His head leaned against the railing. The child ran past him, scowling, as he went into the house.

"Get your homework done!" Arthur called after him. "Bloody brat."

"You didn't go on your trip?" Alfred asked, hands slipped into his trouser pockets.

"I ran into some complications." Arthur spoke meekly. He kept his gaze down, arms folded over his stomach tightly. His clothing was filthy and his skin glistened with sweat. "Let me be. I have fallen ill."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, why must you lie to us?" Said Braginski, he exhaled loudly with a smug grin. "He is injured."

The Englishman glared up at the Russian. His quivering lips were turning blue.

"Injured?" Questioned Alfred.

"Alfred, take him inside." Instructed Ivan.

Arthur was extremely light. His petite body shaking in Alfred's arms as he carried him upstairs to his room. Thankfully, Toby had locked himself within his bedroom. He was tossing a ball against the wall, irritated.

Kirkland was laid onto the bed gently. He shut his eyes tightly, sucking air through clenched teeth.

"Undress him, so we may see the damage."

"I am fine! Let me heal on my own!" Protested the man, guarding his wound. "I just need time."

"Hush now, you will alert the little one." Braginski said, his words polished and placid. "Why suffer longer than necessary, Master? Unless, you are one who likes such things."

"Ivan, enough." Alfred warned, he was not entertained. "Arthur, please, let me help you." With care, he moved Kirkland's hands away. Blood had soaked through his dress shirt. As he began to undo the buttons, Arthur turned his shamed face away.

Many prominent scars covered his chest. Jones tried not to stray from his task, pulling back the soiled clothe. A bullet had hit the man in the abdomen, leaving a round ballistic wound. Alfred was no stranger to this type of injury.

"He was shot. I need to remove the bullet."

"There is a surgical kit under the bed." Arthur said, replacing his hands to compress the bleeding. "Bullets are different than they were in your time. When the bullet enters the body it spreads, latching itself with small barbs to the tissue. They are difficult and painful to remove."

"Interesting." Ivan said, voice bitter sweet. "And what of the poison?"

"Poison?" Repeated Alfred, searching underneath the bed.

"Da. I seem to recall that such bullets are laced with a poison that causes cardiac arrest, or, did I read wrong?"

Kirkland's gaze narrowed.

"I found it." Jones recovered the metal box, popping the lid and rummaging for supplies. "Braginski, shut up or leave the room." He said coldly.

Ivan smiled.

"Da. I will leave you to your work."

Ivan kicked open the door, cracking the framework as he exited.

With steady hands, Alfred, began to fish out the futuristic projectile.

"How did you get hurt?" He asked, struggling to grab hold of the foreign object wedged deep within Arthur's flesh. The tissue attempted to heal itself, making things more difficult.

"I was mugged."

Jones glanced at the man in disbelief.

"You expect me to believe that?"

Kirkland forced a smile.

"I was hoping you would."

"Tell me the truth. If you think I will rat you out, you could just kill me later."

"It is not, you, who I am worried about."

Alfred looked over his shoulder at the damaged door, barely able to shut. He swallowed down his hesitation.

"I will not tell Braginski anything."

There was silence. Jones returned to his work, dislodging the bullet. It finally came free, taking with it small pieces of delicate tissue. Alfred cleansed the wound, dabbing it with a clothe. The area was extremely tender, Arthur, grunted softly as it was sterilized and dressed in bandages. He sat upright when it had been covered.

"Hey, lay back down. I aint done." Protested Alfred.

The Englishman leaned in close. It made Jones uncomfortable. His cheeks flushed red.

"The truth is. . .I tried to kill the Queen." He said in a shallow whisper. "One of her goons gunned me and my partner down. I was the only one who made it out alive. It was my mistake that got him killed." His voice faded off.

Alfred was stunned. Unconscious, Arthur collapsed onto his shoulder.


	22. Chapter 22

Alfred tucked his master into bed and left him to sleep off his injury. As he shut the door to leave, he was greeted by Ivan. His mauve eyes surveying his every move from across the hall. The capricious man was smiling, but, there was no kindness behind it. Jones was sure of that.

"You pissed at me?" Alfred inquired. "Or, what?"

"How is he?"

His speech was brimming with mockery.

"Fine. " Said Jones, aggravated. "He's asleep, don't bother him."

"How wonderful. You really do make an admirable pet." Ivan said, in attempt to provoke. "A proper dog you are, bravo."

"Listen up, prick." Growled Alfred, aggressively. He jerked Braginski by his collar. "Don't even think for a moment I am afraid to punch you, cripple."

"Your breath is rancid. I suggest you get yourself out of my face." Warned Ivan, he was beaming. "I rather not have to hurt you."

"Oh, really?" Jones laughed and yanked him down the hall to their bedroom. He shoved him inside, uncaring, when the man fell into the dresser. "Come on. You and me, right now."

The door was slammed shut. Alfred threw his jacket onto the desk. Paper and writing utensils scattered cross the room as he rolled his sleeves up hastily. Backed against the wardrobe, Braginski chuckled.

"Damn you!" Bellowed the young American hurling a fist at Ivan's head.

With balletic precision the elder man evaded the attack with ease. His leg swept under his challenger's feet and sent him plummeting to the ground. Glaring furiously, Alfred wrenched Ivan down with him. He pinned his adversary down, immobilizing him.

"Your footwork is terribly sad."

"Stop badgering me." Demanded Jones, snatching Braginski by the hair. "Are you trying to make me hate you?"

Ivan's smile dissipated. He stared up at Alfred. His glasses were askew and sliding off the bridge of the nose.

"Do you? That would explain much. I trust you with all my heart, but, yet, you lie to my face. Then, you become friendly with the man who purchased us, making promises to keep more from me."

With a long sigh, Alfred rested his forehead onto Ivan's.

"I don't hate you and you come before him, okay?" He grumbled. "Asshole. Don't make me say weird stuff."

Jones climbed off the large man and helped him stand. Both their cheeks were flushed, unable to look directly at one another. After a few moments of awkward silence, Alfred began to clean up the mess he had made. He gathered the papers and placed them back onto the desk moving his coat to the chair.

"I spoke with the Queen." Said Ivan, sitting on his mattress.

"The Queen? She talked to you?"

"Da. She seemed to take an interest in me, I do not be knowing why." Braginski explained. "She was uninjured in the attack. One of her soulless bodyguards was struck by a bullet and the assassin was killed. His companion, however, escaped fatally wounded. The authorities are searching for him, but, have no leads." He said, looking at Alfred skeptically.

Sitting next to him, Jones, clicked his tongue. It took him a second to reply to what was said.

"I-It was Arthur, the guy who got away." He whispered.

"I see." Snickered the Russian, resting against his comrade. "I am so glad to hear truth, I wish I could embrace you."

Alfred laughed.

"You already knew that, didn't you?"

"Da." Ivan smirked. "You confirmed my assumption."

The doorbell chimed through the house. Toby was first to answer. Two men dressed in white stood outside. Both had mauve eyes and had the royal seal tattooed on their person.

"Mein gott, a child." The brunette said, crossing his arms. He had a distinct beauty mark at the corner of his mouth."Williams, deal with this. You are better in these situations."

"H-hello there, my name is Matthew Williams." Spoke the other. His light wavy hair was pulled back tight. A curl had managed to slip out and settled over the tattoo on his cheek. "Is your father home?"

The boy inhaled deeply.

"KIRKLAND! Some git named Willard is at the door! Get your drunken ass out here, you wanker!" Toby yelled through the house at the top of his lungs.

A hand rested on the youth's shoulder, pulling him back.

"Can we help you?" Alfred asked, standing in front of the young master protectively. Braginski stood at his side.

"Good afternoon. My name ist Roderich Edelstein und dies ist Matthew Williams." Introduced the dark haired gentleman. "We are der Majesty's royal escorts und have a message for Master Arthur Kirkland."

"Unfortunately, our master has fallen ill." Spoke Braginski. "He is resting, I apologize on his behalf."

"That is a shame." The one called Matthew said, frowning. "Our Queen was hoping to have him attend her ball this evening."

"Who is at the door?" Said Kirkland, shoving the Russian out of the way.

Alfred looked at him in surprise. He was fully dressed and appeared perfectly fine.

"Ah, Master Arthur Kirkland, nice zu see you are feeling better. I am Roderich Edelste-"

"I know who you are." The Englishman interrupted. "What business do you have here?"

"The Royal Ball is this evening. The Queen has cordially invited you to attend." Williams said. He held out a small blue envelope containing an invitation. "Your son and servants are also welcome to come."

Arthur took the invite hastily.

"Thank you. Tell Her Royal Highness, we will be attending."

"Exzellent." Roderich said, nodding his head. "Danke für your time. Our Freifrau will be very pleased. Auf Wiedersehen."

He began to walk down the steps to the vehicle parked in the drive.

"I met your great grandfather long ago. Y-you, eh, look just like him." Said Matthew, he spoke nervously. "I am a fan of his research on the Soulless gene."

"My great grandfather was a fool. Soulless are abominations, the gene should be wiped from the face of the Earth, not understood or sympathized with." Kirkland said coldly. "You were the one that was shot today, am I right? It truly is a shame the bullet missed your heart."

The man took a step back, a hand clasping over his shoulder.

"Matthew, come, we must nicht keep the Queen waiting!" Called Roderich.

"I-I must be going now." Matthew bowed and took his leave.


	23. Chapter 23

Arthur watched the car drive off through the gate and shut the front door. He winced, the fresh wound throbbing painfully.

"Why are you so cranky?" Toby asked. "Did you run out of rum or are you still recovering from a hangover, drunkard?"

Kirkland flashed him a look of discontent.

"Mr. Braginski, help my son find something proper to wear for this evening." He ordered. "Mr. Jones, come with me to my quarters."

"Urm, y-yes sir." Alfred stuttered, following behind him.

Once they got into the privacy of his room, Arthur, collapsed clutching his injury. He reached into his jacket, retrieving a half full flask. Loudly, he gulped down the contents, then threw the empty container aside.

"My words, they were harsh speaking to that peon. My great grandfather and myself are one in the same. I did many things I regret. Sorry, if I said something that offended you." He apologized. "They must have some suspicion I was involved, otherwise, why would those goons be knocking at my door? I have to keep up my façade to keep their notion at bay."

"Why did you try to kill the queen?" Questioned Jones.

"That is none of your concern."

"If you want me to keep quiet, then you'll tell me."

"Mr. Jones." Arthur said, in a warning tone. "I think you forget who owns you." His expression was dark.

"Pfft, I think, I own you at this point."

"Oh, is that so?" Kirkland stood, closing the gap between them. He smelled of strong liquor. "Are you aware of what encases your heart? A single phone call, Alfred, and you will be dragged away to be exposed of."

"Do it. I already died a long time ago." Alfred hissed.

"What if I had Braginski taken in your stead?" Arthur said, rapturously. "I would even go as far as to have you watch him die. His grave would be dug by your own two hands and the cretin's corpse will be your companion as you spend the rest of eternity in a coffin buried under fifteen tons of concrete." He touched Alfred's lapel lightly with the tips of his fingers. "You cannot wear this tonight, it has a stain. I have a new suit that I purchased for you in my closet."

"I should have let you die on the porch."

"Alfred, don't look at me like that. I do not want to burden you any farther than I already have. I see now it was a mistake to reveal anything to you." Arthur exhaled and went to his closet, pulling out the newly made outfit. "Disrobe and put this on."

He refused, glaring. Kirkland chuckled at him, slicking back his hair as he took staggered steps towards Alfred.

"I said, undress." Arthur tore open Alfred's shirt forcefully, appetence in his gaze. "You are truly captivating."

"What goes on here?" Ivan interrupted. He was in the door frame, a smile on his face. "Intriguing."

Alfred cleared his throat.

"He's been drinking." He blushed, grappling Arthur by the wrists. The suit crumbled onto the ground.

"Damn you Braginski." Sneered Kirkland.

"Calm down and sit, before you hurt yourself." Grumbled Alfred, helping the man to the bed. "How are you suppose to get through the night like this?"

"I am fine!"

"Da. He his fine. Let him drink more, he is much more entertaining this way." Chuckled Braginski. "I prefer, in place of his usual boring demeanor."

"He won't tell me why he was trying to kill the Queen." Alfred spoke before Arthur had the chance to form a rebuttal.

"You told him?" Hissed Arthur.

"He did. That is because he belongs to me." Said Ivan.

With discomposure, Jones' face reddened.

"I-I don't belong to anyone."

"I know the reason." Braginski hummed. "The Queen stole your research from you. This, and she set fire to your home, killing your dear wife. What was her name? ALICE?" Said with a depraved grin.

Kirkland went rigid, his eyes dilating.

Ivan continued. "She died. Perhaps in your arms? Was she one of us? Did her flesh burn too far to heal? Did she beg for her life to end? How long did you deny her wish, before yo-"

"IVAN, STOP!" Demanded Alfred.

Arthur hid his face, trembling on the mattress and all went quiet.


	24. Chapter 24

The silence was disrupted by unsettling laughter.

"I underestimated your intelligence, meddlesome rat." Said Arthur, uncovering a chilling smile. He stood from the bed and cracked his neck. "How did your daughter die?"

Ivan smiled back, matching Arthur's intensity.

"What is it you are implying?"

"You are smart, Braginski, yet, you ask such senseless questions." Kirkland said. "Poor, sweet, child. I bet you cannot even remember her face." His words were bitter. "Murderer."

Braginski scowled, infuriated.

"I bet you enjoyed killing her." Arthur continued. "Deranged FREAK."

"Enough!" Alfred growled, dragging Ivan and the new suit with him out of the room. "Come on, we need to get ready."

In the confines of their bedroom, Jones threw his ruined shirt aside. He swung open the wardrobe searching for decent attire for Ivan to wear.

"Do you believe I murdered Anastasia?" Asked Ivan faintly.

Alfred paused, looking back over his shoulder.

"What? Of course not."

Braginski leaned against the closed door. Anguish and uncertainty depicted on his face.

"I do not remember well." He whispered, shutting his eyes tight. "Everything is blurred. What if it is truth?"

"Hey."

Lightly, Alfred tugged Ivan's empty sleeve.

"You DID NOT murder her." He said with absolute confidence. They gazed deeply into each other's eyes. "You would never do that to someone you love."

Alfred returned to his search, settling on a black suit with a ruffled collar.

"Thank you." Said Ivan, resting his head upon his comrades shoulder.

Taken aback, Jones blushed and smiled sheepishly.

"Did the brat change?"

"Nyet. He refused."

"Great." Rolling his eyes, Alfred slipped Ivan's jacket off the hanger. "You want to change your undershirt? There is a weird one that is embroidered with beads, I think it is suppose to be 'fashionable.'" He said, turning to face him.

With his teeth, Ivan undid the pin that secured his coat. Alfred stared, attention captured by his pale moist lips that held the clasp. Stomach fluttering, he took the object and slowly placed it on the desk.

"Dress me as you wish. I value your opinion much more than my own." Said Ivan.

Alfred removed the man's shirt, replacing it with the one from the closet. It was an off white and the black embellishments were arranged in a flower pattern about the high collar.

"It fits you well." He said, pulling the jacket over his shoulders. "I'm going to pin it at the waist."

"I cannot remove it myself if you secure it there. Do you enjoy undressing me?" Asked Braginski with a devilish grin.

"Ha, ha, shut up." Snorted Alfred, fixing the fabric into place. "There."

He took a step back, reviewing Ivan's outfit. It looked good on him. Alfred undid the garment bag and began to dress in his own attire. The jacket was long and had silver chains linking behind his back to buttons at the shoulders. His suit lapel was covered in a layer of gray lace and the shirt underneath matched in color.

"I look stupid." Said Alfred, defeated.

Ivan chuckled.

"Let us go see the Young Master, Da?"

"You go ahead, I need to check on Kirkland."

"Alright, if you must." Said Braginski, frowning.

He was first to leave the room.

Alfred entered Arthur's quarters without bothering to knock. The intoxicated man was sitting at the vanity. He noticed Jones in the mirror.

"Ah, the beauteous pacifist has returned." Kirkland said, sounding annoyed. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"I came to see if you were alright."

"I am just peachy." He murmured, fastening a pewter brooch to his jacket. It was in the shape of a lion's head and embedded with green gem eyes. "I am running low on secrets for you to pilfer. Sorry to disappoint."

"Your life is sad, you know that?" Alfred sneered. "You are a depressing, alcoholic prick. No wonder your son hates you."

Arthur slammed his hands down as he stood, glaring at the reflection of man behind him.

"What did you say to me?"

"You heard me, selfish asshole. " Exclaimed Alfred. "This is why Braginski can't stand you. GET OVER YOURSELF!"

Slowly, Kirkland lowered himself back into his seat. He said nothing, tending to his untidy hair that seemed never to stay orderly.

"If I was to ask for your help, what would you say?" Asked Arthur, avoiding Alfred's gaze. "Would you bother with an old, broken bloke, like myself?"

"I have nothing better to do." Alfred said with a shrug.

"It may get you killed."

"Not easily." Said Jones with a smirk.

Arthur smiled back, meekly.

"My wife and I were trying to artificial develop the soulless gene for use in medicine. We had nearly obtained our objective, when the manor was set fire and burned to the ground. The Queen had sent her personal escorts to commit the act. I and my son escaped unharmed, however, my wife was not as lucky. Being a soulless, she did not die, but, was cursed with a fate worse than death. The flames had engulfed her entire body. She became a living corpse, bed ridden and in misery." The man bite his lip. "On record, only Toby got out alive. His name was Peter, back then, Alice named him after her father. The Queen is wicked. She has killed countless innocent people for her own selfish desire. Queen Natalia Arlovskaya, needs to die."


	25. Chapter 25

Alfred helped Arthur finish preparing for the evening.

"That child better be ready." Kirkland grumbled, hurrying down the hall.

He was stopped by Braginski, a massive grin upon his face.

"Get out of my way." Demanded Arthur.

With great force, Ivan kneed the man in the groin. Grunting, Kirkland collapsed. He coughed, cursing under his breath. Toby burst into laughter, joining Braginski at his side.

"Nice shot, right in the ballocks!" The boy pointed to his father as he spoke. "Serves you right." He said, snickering.

"Why did you do that for?" Asked Alfred in a hushed voice.

"I made deal with the young master." Said Ivan cheerfully. "He refused to attend tonight otherwise."

Jones helped Kirkland to his feet.

"Mr. Karpusi is waiting, go get in the car." Growled Arthur.

Toby stuck out his tongue and skipped off down the steps.

As Arthur had said, the dark vehicle was parked outside. The sleepy eyed brunet ushered Toby inside and acknowledged Kirkland with a nod of his head.

"Mr. Karpusi has been working for me for a very long time." Arthur said to Alfred as they walked. "I pay him in cat food." He grinned.

They arrived at the Ball, just after the sun had set. The palace was situated on the border of the wastelands. Beyond the high stone barrier, was the devastated world mankind had abandoned. Lakes and rivers were blackened with contaminants. The soil was dry and toxic preventing vegetation from growing outside Euphenas walls.

The structure was enormous. Up the marble steps, a French door was propped open. Matthew Williams and a line of security guards patted down the guests and had them pass through a metal detector before they entered.

"Good evening, Master Kirkland." Williams greeted. "Glad to see you have arrived. Did you find the place okay?"

"Forget formalities, just get this over with." Grumbled Arthur, undoing his jacket.

Williams patted down the man, eyes adverted. Suddenly, he applied a great amount of pressure to Arthur's abdomen. Kirkland cried out. Mauve eyes flashed to his pained face.

"Sorry, I have never done this before." Matthew smiled, ruthlessly. "You must still be feeling ill. Do you need an antacid or maybe, stitches?"

Arthur's gaze narrowed.

"I do not know what you are implying."

"I apologize for keeping you." Said Williams, allowing him to pass. "Please, enjoy the festivities."

"Mr. Kirkland, everything alright?" Asked Alfred, approaching Arthur once he got passed security. He glanced back at Williams.

Kirkland shook his head.

"He knows." He said. "That bastard."

Toby tugged Ivan by the sleeve, following the crowd down the hall. On the other side of a flower trimmed doorway, were two spiral staircases. They lead downwards to the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers hung from the gold plated ceilings above the dance floor. The tables that ran along the walls, were filled with a vast assortment of food and drink. Under a stained glass window, depicting the royal seal, sat the unoccupied throne upon a platform. Large brass pots had been placed on either side, containing blue delphiniums.

"I wonder if there are Turkish delights?!" Exclaimed Toby.

Ivan stayed close by, watching the youth shovel sweets into his mouth. Alfred and Arthur had not yet made it inside. Braginski was beginning to become concerned. Roderich Edelstein, his dark hair slicked back, approached him. He held a violin bow in his hand.

"Mr. Braginski, guten abend."

"Mr. Edelstein, was it?" Said Ivan, smiling courteously. "Good evening."

"My Queen has taken ein liking to you." Said the man, taking a glass of wine from the nearby table. He took a sip. "She requests, that you meet with her in private."

"I respectfully decline, I must look after Young Master." Braginski replied. "Have you seen my comrade and Master Kirkland?"

"I do nicht think you understand." Edelstein spoke, ominously. "If you truly care about the child's safety, you will come with me."

Braginski, unenthusiastically, followed Edelstein out of the ballroom. They traveled down a winding hallway to a dimly lit living space. Alfred and Arthur sat in front of the Queen, her cold eyes flashed an indecipherable look in his direction.

"Mr. Braginski, please, sit." She said dully.

Ivan took a place next to Alfred. Neither he, nor Arthur looked to him. Jones had his head lowered, his sleeve had been torn at the shoulder. Braginski gently bumped his leg against him. Alfred moved away out of reach.

Kirkland sighed deeply and stood.

"M-my Queen Natalia Arlovskaya, as a gift for your 254th birthday, I give to you my servant Ivan Braginski." Arthur said, kneeling at her feet. "May he serve you well." He kissed the ring upon her finger.

"I accept your tribute." Said the Queen, she nodded in approval.

Braginski turned to Alfred in disbelief. He continued to stare at the floor.

"Thank you, my Queen." Kirkland got to his feet. "I must return to the ballroom, my son is unattended. Mr. Jones, come, let us take our leave."

In silence, Alfred followed Arthur out of the room. The door closed behind them.


	26. Chapter 26

Braginski was reluctant to obey the Queen or any of her servants. He was shackled to a chair and force fed. A tube inserted through the nostril, pumped his stomach with food until he was close to vomiting.

Natalia had found her way into his room. She climbed onto Ivan's lap and coiled his chain about her fingers. Her dress was adorned with lace and ribbons, giving her a striking resemblance to a porcelain doll.

"For now on you will call me, baby sister, and I will call you, big brother." Her voice was inordinately sugared.

Ivan was silent, his gaze distant. The Queen clutched him by the jaw, manipulating his head. Her eyes glistened with maliciousness.

"Your face pleases me." She spoke deeply. "A flawless trinket, despite your age. I plan to restore you fully, however, if I grant you limbs would I regret my kindness?"

"You will." Hissed Ivan.

"Pretty dolls are easily broken." Natalia grinned murderously. "You were very fond of your companion. It would be a shame if something happened, not so nice to him."

Teeth clenched, Braginski forced back his words.

"You learn quickly, Big Brother." She said while caressing his bloated stomach. "I will feed you more. There is room to spare."

"No. I will be sick."

"Is that what worries you?" Her voice was canorous. "I will make it so none will spill out."

She taped his mouth shut, tethering his head to the back of the chair. The drip of the feeding bag was clamped closed, it hung beside them.

"My Queen, Mr. Braginski will drown if he vomits." Williams stood in the doorway. "I fed him not long ago."

"I wish to fill him." Natalia said.

"If you must." Sighed Matthew, removing the tape. "You cannot cover his mouth, my Queen. I feel that you would be very displeased if he suffocated."

"Da. This is true, I would be with much disappointment." She nodded with an empty gaze.

"My Queen, let me assist you." Williams said. He loosened the clamp, letting the milky fluid flow steadily. "When you wish for it to stop, call for me. I will be standing guard outside the door."

"Thank you Williams." She said in monotone, returning to Braginski's lap.

The man bowed, smiling as he exited.

Ivan's breathing quickened, shutting his eyes. Natalia swept her hair back, watching his face inanimately.

"Are you in pain, Big Brother?" She asked, cupping his cheeks. Some of the liquid had come back up, it dribbled from the corner of his lip.

"Please, s-stop." Braginski gargled.

"I am enjoying myself. You want your dearest Baby Sister to be happy, da?"

She licked clean his chin.

"Feed me, Big Brother." She crooned, kissing him as she pressed against his stomach. From his mouth she drank, swallowing the overfill. "So sweet and warm."

Ivan coughed, splattering her dress. Matthew heard his struggle, quickly returning from the hall.

"My Queen, he has had enough. M-may I turn off the flow?" He said.

"Neyt." She spoke softly, observing the man drown. "Let him finish his meal."

The fight for air continued, til, the food bag had emptied. Exhausted, Braginski gasped for air, spitting up as he tried to stabilize. Natalia wiped her face and clung to the man's soaked shirt.

"Williams, go draw a bath." She said, lifting Ivan's chin. "We are dirty."

Ivan trembled. Eyes, a challenge to stay open.

"Now we are full, da?"

"Da, y-yes, Baby Sister." Braginski strained.

Matthew had prepared the bath, as advised. A layer of bubbles floated on the waters surface. Ivan was led by Natalia, pulled by the chain about his neck. One of the female servants helped them out of their soiled clothing.

"Big Brother." Called Natalia. She sat on the edge of tub and spread her legs for him. "Clean me."

Detached, Braginski got to his knees. The shackle clinked on the tile as he ran his tongue against her. He blocked out her moans and did not protest when she forced him closer. If it was to keep Alfred out of harms way, he would endure it.


	27. Chapter 27

At the Kirkland Estate, Arthur had taken to the bottle. After Toby had discovered his father had given away Braginski, he refused to speak to him. He was sent to live with Mr. Karpusi for awhile.

Alfred kept to himself and rarely left his room. Often, he was lie down in his comrades bed and wrap himself in the covers. Savoring the fading aroma of woody peach that still lingered. Some nights he dreamed of Ivan sitting at the desk, studying, only to awake and find himself alone. The chair empty and an awful pang in his heart.

"Alfred, join me for dinner." Arthur spoke from outside the door. "Please."

It was difficult to drag himself from the mattress. He was dressed sloppily, his shirt un-tucked and half buttoned. When he opened the door, Arthur fell into him, a drunken mess. It had become the norm.

"I will eat with you, but, you have to promise not to sexually harass me." Said Jones. "You touched my junk last time."

"You walk around with your chest exposed." Arthur grumbled, his face flushed. "If anyone is to blame, it is you."

In the dining room the table was still set for four. Alfred sat next to Kirkland, sighing. He helped himself to a hunk of roasted chicken.

"Bon jour!"

Both Alfred and Arthur were startled.

A man with a scruffy chin pushed open the kitchen door wearing an apron. He was blonde and had a thin nose. Cheerfully, he sat down a plate of potatoes in front of Kirkland.

"I thought you were dead." Murmured Arthur, stabbing at his food with a fork.

"Poo." The man pouted and untied his hair. It cascaded down to his shoulders. "I was merely sleeping. Beauty like mine, mon amour, requires la beauty sleep."

"Why are you here?" Grumbled Arthur, sounding annoyed.

"The Highness requested my services." The man said. "Where is Antonio these days? I visited his house, but, he was not at home."

"Dead."

The Frenchman was stunned.

"So, it was you two. I saw the news, but, I did not even think you and Antonio were involved." He said sorrowfully, taking a seat. "A pity. He was a good man."

"Yes, he was." Arthur agreed. "Williams has evidence against me. I had to give into the Queen's demands."

"I see." The man took notice of Alfred. "Who is your servant boy?"

"Oh, I apologize Alfred. This frog, is an old acquaintance of mine, Francis Bonnefoy." Grumbled Kirkland. "Also, he is not my servant. He is a guest that, by law, I own."

"Alfred F. Jones." Greeted Alfred.

"A pleasure to meet you." Francis smiled. "I see you wear glasses. I am a world renown surgeon, I could fix your vision for you. Most recently, I replaced a young soulless' arms. It was the first time performing such a surgery and except for slight skin tone differences, they function just fine, as long as his body does not reject the transplant."

"Ivan." Alfred's eyes widened. "The patient, how was he, ph-physically? Uh, did he speak to you at all?"

"Um, not really. He only exchanged greetings with me, although, he was a little over weight."

"Over weight?" Chuckled Alfred. "No signs of, a-abuse?"

"Non. Well, nothing recent at least." Bonnefoy replied, glancing to Arthur. "I assume this patient is someone you know?"

"Yes. Alfred and him were held at the same facility, I purchased them together." Kirkland explained, sipping at a bottle of whiskey. "Giving up custody of him was part of the agreement with the Queen."

"I see." Nodded Bonnefoy.

"Is there, a-any more you can tell me?" Asked Jones, he spoke soft.

"Non, I am sorry." Said Francis.

Alfred stood and pushed in his seat.

"Wait, Monsieur Jones." The man stopped him from leaving the room. "I have to check up on the patient, tomorrow. Is there anything I could pass on for you?"

"Can you?" Alfred's face illuminated. "Um, if I write him a letter, can you give it to him?"

"Oui, but of course." Francis smiled at the youth's enthusiasm.

"Thank you. I will get one ready." Thanked Alfred, hurrying off to his room.

"Good kid." Bonnefoy said, exhaling deep.

"Yes, he is." Agreed Arthur. "I feel guilty about what has happened. What reason would she have for wanting him?"

"He is very attractive." Francis shrugged. "Perhaps, she fancies him?"

"I doubt physical attraction was the only reason."

"Perhaps, but, the Queen hardly ever shows her true couleur." Francis poured himself some wine. "She is actually a quite frightening young lady."

"Hah!" Snorted Arthur, amused. "You mean, psychotic. Whatever she has been injecting herself with must be rotting her brain."


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno why past me thought this was a good chapter.

It was Roderich that had answered the gate for Bonnefoy when he arrived. The wintry brunette was solemn, as he led the doctor through the corridors of the palace. Traveling deeper within, the architecture and decor became much more modernized. They stopped at a steel plated door.

"He is already inside." Said Roderich, typing into a keypad below the handle. The door unlocked and was pushed open. "Let me know when you have finished." He said, dully.

"Merci." Francis said, entering the poorly lit room.

Ivan was naked, sitting upon the coverless bed. He did not acknowledge the man had entered. The space was bare and had the atmosphere of a prison cell.

"Bon Jour, Venus de Milo." Francis greeted. "How are we feeling?"

"I am well." Said Ivan, drearily. He shifted his gaze, but, did not make eye contact.

"Good to hear, Monsieur Braginski." Bonnefoy smiled, removing his shoulder bag and taking a seat in the single chair. It had been bolted to the floor. "It appears you are healing nicely." He said, taking notice to the sutures, just below the shoulder.

"Da." Braginski agreed. With great effort, he managed to move his new fingers. "It is miracle."

"Oh, do you think?" Said Francis. He chuckled and examined one of his arms. "Can you feel anything yet?"

"A little."

"Excellent." Exclaimed the Frenchman, he reached downwards into his bag. "I stopped to see an old friend of mine and met a very handsome young man. Monsieur Jones?"

Braginski's attention was redirected. He was staring at Bonnefoy, his mauve eyes eager.

"What of this man?"

Francis held an envelope out towards him. Struggling, Ivan reached out and took it. His numb fingers slipped the poorly written letter out of the sleeve. He looked down at the paper in his hands, reading the content. After reading it once through, he read it again, then again.

"Ivan,

Hey, I hear you've gotten fat. The doc said he'd bring you this letter, I hope it got to aint the same without ya. Kirkland has become even more of a drunk, since you've left. Also, he didn't really have a choice but to give you up. Sure, he hates you, but, he didn't want to get rid of you. Well, he did, but, didn't, yeah. One of her men, the quiet one, figured shit out and things went to hell. He's dangerous and sneaky, so, watch out for him.

I guess you've been eating well, that was a surprise. How are things there? Are they treating you okay?

Write me back, please.

-Alfred"

"Thank you for this treasure." Braginski bowed his head. "This means great deal to me."

"It was my pleasure." Bonnefoy said, shifting in his seat. "Perhaps, you should practice using your newly acquired appendages and write a reply?"

There was a brief moment of silence and a quick glance to the door.

"Da." He replied.

Francis returned to the Kirkland estate, after his visit. Alfred had been waiting for him on the porch, in anticipation.

"Bon jour!"

"D-did he write back?" Asked Jones, he met him midway up the footpath.

"Oui, oui." Laughed Bonnefoy, taking the letter from his coat. "Here."

It was immediately snatched from his hands. Impatiently, Alfred opened the neatly scripted letter, tearing the envelope to shreds. He slowly skimmed over the words.

"My dearest comrade,

You have horrible hand writing, it was a challenge for me to read. Even so, I am so glad to have received word from you. Things here are very good. I get much attention and I enjoy living here. The Queen is fond of me and ensures I am comfortable. I often spend time with her servants and escorts, they are quite nice.

I do miss you, Alfred.

However, I believe it is time we go our separate ways.

-Ivan Braginski"

Alfred's arms went limp and at first, he did not react. He remained where he stood, unsure what to feel. His feelings quickly switched to angry.

"Monsieur Jones?" Questioned Francis.

He was ignored.

Alfred went back inside and retreated to his room.

"That bastard!" He hissed, balling up the letter and tossing it behind the bed.

He quickly regretted his decision, hurrying to retrieve the precious piece of paper. Alfred flattened it out on the desk, dropping himself into the chair and began to write.

_"BASTARD!_

_How could you fucking say that? You give me that bull shit and expect me NOT to write back?! Do you even care? I can't even function right without you, and you're acting like you don't even give a shit!_

_YOU BETTER WRITE ME BACK, ASSHOLE!"_

When Francis returned without a letter to respond, Alfred wrote a second.

_"I feel so alone. I miss you so much, it makes my stomach hurt._

_Please, don't push me away. I need you._

_Please. I'm begging, please._

_-Alfred."_

. . . and a third.

_"I CAN'T FIND IT!_

_I CAN'T FIND IT!_

_They threw you out! I told them not to come in here, I told them not to touch your things. I told them. I told them, I FUCKING TOLD THEM!_

_I'm fucking going crazy!_

_IVAN, PLEASE! DON'T IGNORE ME!"_

The letters became more frantic. Alfred's room was littered in discarded paper. Every moment was spent agonizing over pen and paper. He did not know what to write anymore.

_"I feel dead inside. How can you be so happy, when I am so hollow? Doc says he gives you my letters, God, I hope its true. I just want to know if you are getting them. I've been trying to write better. Can you tell?_

_I hurt._

_What do I have to say to get you to write back? I'd do anything. Without you I am nothing. God dammit, I am so weak!_

_Ivan, please, Ivan._

_I love you, so, don't throw me away."_


	29. Chapter 29

Ivan had received the letters, memorizing them, before, he tore them to pieces and swallowed away their existence. He had healed, but, the doctor kept making his visits on Alfred's behalf. He awaited Bonnefoy's arrival, in dread, hoping that his dear comrade had given up his pursuit and moved on.

Quietly, Francis entered the room, an envelope in his hand.

"No more." Braginski refused. "I will not read. They bring me too much pain."

"Monsieur, why do you not write back?"

"Then what? What would you have me do?" Asked Ivan, angered. "Increase his attachment to me? Endanger him? He is fool to think I am worth that. You as well, do not come again. Please, the risk is too great."

"I understand." Bonnefoy did not press the issue farther. "It has a pleasure, Monsieur Braginski." He left the room.

Matthew was waiting for him. Nonchalantly, he smiled.

"You come fairly often, are there any complications?" Asked Williams, accompanying Bonnefoy. "Anything I must inform the Highness, about?"

"Non. The surgery is a new procedure, I like to log his progress. This is my last visit."

"Ah, I see. Let us make sure your final visit is rememberable."

Matthew slammed Francis to the wall, a dagger plunged into his forearm. The sharp pain caused his body to seize. Alfred's letter fell from his hand. It was fetch from the floor by Roderich.

"I guess you won the wager, Williams." He said, holding the envelope betwixt his fingers. "The Queen will want to hear of this."

"Salop!" Bonnefoy cried out after him. "Release me!" He demanded.

"Non." Williams mocked. "Monsieur, vous êtes un imbécile."


	30. Chapter 30

Ivan spread his hand. Although his sense of touch was dulled, he could feel the fibers of the sheet. The thin fabric rippled as he moved his fingers across the mattress, smoothing it flat.

"Big Brother."

Braginski stood from the bed and kneeled as the Queen came before him. She was nude. Flaxen hair glittering like champagne over her petite frame.

"My sweet, Baby Sister." His lips graced the top of her foot. "I missed your company."

"Did you?"

She was apathetic. Ivan peered upwards into her discontent gaze.

"Da."

Tilting her head, she lowered herself to her knees. In comparison, Ivan appeared as a giant next to the tiny woman.

"That idiot will not give you up." She said, dropping crumbled paper into his lap. "He says, he loves you, what do you say?"

Braginski glanced down at the precious shredded letter.

"His suffering, is none of my concern." He said bleakly. "He is a fool."

"Da." Said Natalia, taking one of his hands. She caressed her lips against the flesh, licking at Ivan's finger. "Unfortunately, fools do not listen to words."

Eyes blazing with vengefulness, she bit down. Mouth filling with sweet iron and gushing from her lip. Braginski watched numbly, as the digit was gnawed off and spit onto the floor.

"What is given, can easily be taken away, Big Brother." She said, smiling. Her teeth were stained. "I bet the moron will understand this, da? Matthew, take this to the doctor and send him on his way."

Ivan's eyes widened.

"Please, do not." He begged. "Please, baby sister!"

"Nyet." Natalia's smile remained. "This is punishment. He must see the consequences of his actions."

"Yes, my Queen."

William's shoes clacked, echoing, as he entered and slowly bent to gather the severed appendage in a handkerchief. Ivan stared, watching as it began to saturate with blood. He found himself unable to look away from the growing blotch.

A loud crash awoke Alfred. He hurried from his bed and down the hall, where he was met by Arthur at the staircase.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" Kirkland asked. He held a loaded pistol in his hand.

Panting, Alfred shook his head.

"I don't know."

They both, slowly, ventured down the steps. Arthur took the lead, the gun at the ready. A flapping noise came from the dining hall. Jones peered inside. The window had been smashed and the curtain blew wildly in the wind. He reached for the light switch.

"Stop."

The command came from neither Arthur nor Alfred.

"Who is there?!" Called Kirkland, stepping through the door frame.

In one of the chairs sat a hunched figure, his head upon the table. Without his glasses, Alfred was unsure if it was actually a man or just shadow.

"Mon ami, I wish not to be seen like this." Spoke a familiar voice.

"Francis?"

Arthur placed his gun on the table and went to Francis' side. Even in darkness, his injuries were apparent. Arms lacerated, blood, trickled onto the floor.

"Alfred, bring the first aid kit." Demanded the Englishman, slinging Francis' over his shoulder. "Quickly, to my study."

With haste, Jones went to retrieve the medical supplies, while, Arthur struggled to move the larger man. Alfred had completed his task first, returning to help. In the study, Francis' was placed in the chair behind the desk. Kirkland turned on the lamp.

The man was a wreck. Both his eyes were swollen shut and blackened. His clothing was torn to ribbons.

"I warned you, it is not pretty." Francis said, voice cracked.

Arthur rolled up his sleeves and began to tend to his wounds.

"It was her goons?" He asked.

"Oui." The Frenchman winced. "Can I speak with Arthur, in private."

Kirkland looked to Alfred.

Reluctantly, he left.


	31. Chapter 31

Before continuing to converse, they waited for Alfred's footsteps to disappear.

“They did a number on you.” Grumbled Arthur, he dabbed at Francis’ arm. “I knew something like this would happen.”

Bonnefoy, reached for his breast pocket. 

“Braginski, is worse off than I.” He whispered, holding up Ivan’s gnarled finger. 

“Bloody hell.” Arthur gasped, flashing a quick glance to the closed door. “He cannot know about this.”

Slowly, Francis nodded. Neither of them knowing Alfred was listening from just outside the room.

* * *

“Big brother, I must show you something. Follow.” Demanded Natalia.

Mindlessly, Braginski did as told. They walked down a corridor and entered an elevator. Matthew greeted them, pressing a button on the control panel. Ivan noticed the deep red stain on his cuff. The doors shut and they descended. 

“I searched a long time for you, Big Brother.” The queen, took hold of Ivan’s bandaged hand as she spoke. “Let me show you why.”

Disinterested, he nodded. 

The elevator chimed when it opened. He was led down a narrow hall with white walls and concrete flooring. Branching off of the passageway, were several red doors numbered 1 through 42 in bold black. At the 23rd, they stopped. Williams pulled keys from his pocket, they rattled as he clumsily unlocked the room.

Natalia stepped into the room, beckoning for Ivan to follow. The room illuminated as they entered. A large window enclosed part of the room. Various tubes and wires lined the walls, all going the same direction towards the window. 

“Take a look, Big Brother.” Said the queen, she gestured to the glass.

Ivan cautiously peered inside. Secured with straps to a metal framed bed was a small child. The tubes and wires were connected to their body. Their hair shaved to the scalp a scar wrapping around its circumference. The child’s skin was the palest shade, as though it had never seen the sun. They had green eyes that remained open, unblinking, staring at the ceiling. Braginski turned his head away.

“What have you done to this child?” He asked.

Natalia ran her fingers over the glass. 

“This girl is a very special soulless.” She spoke softly, continuing to pet the window that separated them from the child, “I collect them, to preserve my youth. I took this one’s brain, because she would not shut up about her father.”

Ivan’s heart ached, horror-stricken eyes directed to the queen.

“Anastasia?” He questioned, “is that...no...” Shaking his head furiously, he dropped to his knees. “That cannot be...”

The queen lifted Ivan’s head with her petite hands, forcing him to look upon her. She smiled cruelly down at him.

“Big brother, there is nothing to be done now. I will allow you to kill her husk, if you wish?” 

Anger boiled deep in Ivan, he smacked Natalia’s hands away. His mauve eyes glaring. The queen was surprised by the response. She recollected her composer and snapped her fingers. Matthew appeared quickly beside her, stabbing a sedative into Braginski’s neck. He turned and placed an axe in his queen’s hands.

Ivan hissed, clasping a hand to the injection spot. His head began spinning, body relaxing. He could not feel his legs.

“Make sure he watches,” she spoke coldly. To her side there was a door, she let herself inside past the window barrier. 

Matthew forced Ivan to his feet, shoving the man’s face against the glass. Both men watched Natalia as she approached the girl on the bed. Ivan’s vision wavered in and out. He had lost his ability to speak.

The queen raised the axe high over her head. Braginski watching helplessly as it was brought down on his daughter. Blood splattered onto the glass. The axe was swung over and over again, until Ivan succumb to the drug coursing through his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((The remaining parts are in cliff notes.
> 
> I decided I am going to finish this work, but it may take some time to do so.
> 
> -kolxhero-0))


	32. Chapter 32

“I’ve had enough of this,” whispered Alfred gathering some of his and Ivan’s belongings into a knapsack he had found in one of the linen closets, "I will go get him myself, then we will escape together past the wall.”

There was no way he could live on, if he did not at least try to rescue his comrade. Alfred did not care if he perished during the attempt. In fact, if he failed it would be for the best. He held one of Braginski’s shirts to his aching chest, inhaling deep. His eyes shut. With his body shuddering, he unzipped his pants and slunk to the floor. He imagined Ivan’s melodic voice rasp sweetly in his ear as he touched himself gently. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” 

Jones’ fantasy was interrupted abruptly. Arthur stood bewildered at the door, a half empty bottle of rum in hand.

“God, can you fucking knock?!”

Alfred hid himself with the shirt, cheeks flushed. 

“It ‘s perfect-ly-normal for a man to release himself from time t’ time,” said Kirkland in a druken slur, “what ‘s that bag f’r?”

With haste, the bag was hidden under the bed and Alfred stood.

“Nothing,” he lied, rebuttoning his trousers; manhood still at quarter mast. 

“I cou’d have ‘elped with that,” Arthur said pointing a digit and taking a couple wobbly steps.

“Get out,” grumbled Jones shoving the drunkard.

The door was slammed after him and lock secured. Alfred leaned against the wood, sighing and slicking back his hair. The cold firmness reminding him of Ivan. Realization set in, there was no way he could succeed on his own. He could not even remember where the queen’s palace was. Maybe, Arthur could be helpful to him. The door was reopened, the drunk still in the hall.

“Wait,” said Alfred, “I want to rescue Braginski. I heard you and Francis...he is in trouble isn't he?”

"Ugh, you should not have easdropped," the Englishman shook his head, “that wou’d be foolish."

“Please,” begged Jones taking his master’s hand, “I will do anything.”

Mr. Kirkland raised a thick brow, “sex?”

The American’s face furrowed. He exhaled loudly and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Arthur watched, befuddled.  
“How we doing this?” Alfred asked. He walked back into his room, sitting to undo his trousers. “I have never been with a man.”

With haste, Kirkland approached. He sat the rum down on the desk and made his way to Jones. Peering down at him with lustful eyes and flushed face, Arthur dropped his bottoms. His manhood sprung forth. Alfred adverted his gaze. A forceful hand snatched him by the hair. Arthur’s throbbing cock was rammed against him.

“Service me,” said Arthur coldly rubbing himself along Alfred’s cheek bone. He sounded suddenly sober, “you will call me, master, this evening.”

“Yes, master,” murmured Alfred. He was embarrassed.

“Look at me when you speak.”

Jones’ head was yanked back. He looked up at Kirkland, wincing. 

“Yes, master.”

“Good boy. Now then, ” Arthur pressed into Alfred’s rosy lips, “open up.”

He did as told and the shaft was shoved inside his mouth. Jones’ gagged when it touched the back of his throat, eyes watering. Harshly, Kirkland thrusted. Forbidding green eyes watching the lad struggle to keep pace. 

“Deeper,” demanded Kirkland. “Swallow me.”

Alfred did not protest, trying his hardest not to vomit as the member entered his throat. He could not breathe, he looked at Arthur with pleading blue eyes. There was no sympathy to be found. The violent thrusting continued, until Kirkland climaxed. He hissed, sucking in air through clenched teeth as he ejaculated down Alfred’s throat. Unable to hold back, Jones lurched. Cum and bile erupting out his mouth around Arthur’s manhood. It spilled down Alfred and dripped onto the floor. Kirkland pulled out and wiped his cock off on Alfred’s shirt, it was still erect.

Coughing, Jones breathed in air greedily. He wiped himself with the back of his hand, casting a vicious glare at Arthur.

“What the hell?” said Alfred hoarsely. His throat was raw from vomiting. 

After Arthur had cleaned himself, his eyes went back to Alfred. He struck him hard across the face with the back of his hand. It stung.

“You will do it again,” said Mr. Kirkland, “Until you can do it properly.”

“No way in-”

Alfred was interrupted by another strike.  
  
“Excuse me?” Arthur said, his voice threatening.

“Y-yes master.”

Kirkland was ruthless. Finishing time after time down his property’s throat. Alfred laid on his back, eyes glossed over and exhausted. Tears and other fluids were crusted to his skin. The bed was soaked through. Arthur straddled his face, using the wall to brace himself as he came again. This time Alfred swallowed it all, it slithering down into his empty stomach. 

“O-okay, very good,” said Mr. Kirkland panting heavily. He pulled himself out, smudging saliva across Alfred’s cheek. Arthur crawled off the man and sat at the edge of the bed. “I will help form a plan with you and Francis.”

Jones nodded, unmoving. Spit dribbled from his slightly parted lips.

Arthur stood and began to dress, sneering down at the filthy man. He spat in his face, “you look disgusting, make sure you wash yourself thoroughly. Then, you can tidy this room little sneak.” 

Alfred was left to lay in his own mess. Too weak to move, he fell into a deep slumber.


	33. Chapter 33

Ivan awoke with his arms and legs tightly shackled to a metal slab. His head throbbed, pain making it difficult to focus his gaze. The chain from weeks prior had reappeared around his nape.

“Guten morgen,” Roderich Edelstein greeted. He sat beside Ivan on a stool, a book in hand. His dark hair was gelled back stiff, except for a single piece that refused to be tamed. “How is your head?”

“Hurts,” answered Ivan softly through dry lips. “How long was I asleep?”

“A couple weeks,” the queen’s servant adjusted his spectacles and stood. His movements were effortless and precise. “You were injected with an experimental drug that induces hibernation. After the disposal of your daughter, you were taken to this room. Williams has been hard at work collecting your sperm to replenish the Queen’s collection. She has been very destructive as of late.”

Braginski suddenly remembered the vicious slaughter of his daughter. Natalia swinging the axe unmercifully down onto Anastasia’s still body. Enraged, he clenched his teeth and yanked at his restraints.

“I can see you are angry,” Roderich spoke in monotone. He walked closer to Ivan, gazing down at him pitiless. “There was no saving her, Mr. Braginski. She was merely an empty shell like, most of the collected children. The Highness uses them for her youth serum. Sadly, the transfer of memories are a side effect. That is why she was compelled to have you as a pet.”

“How can you be okay with this?” Growled Ivan.

“I am not. In fact, I am repulsed by the queen,” said the brunette coldly. He began to pace, his arms crossed. “The un-soulless should have died out years ago. It sickens me to be property to such a being, let alone our nation be controlled by one with a rotting mind. Her inferior brain cannot handle the stress from the injections. However, Williams insists on keeping her alive, his level of loyalty is disturbing. He is the one who gathered the collection and stole the Kirkland research that allowed the serum to be created in the first place. Mein Gott, how I hate him.”

“Why tell me this?” Questioned Braginski.

“That is because, I require your help, Mr. Braginski. Play nice and we can both get what we want.”

* * *

Upon the large canopy bed covered in silken bedding, Natalia sat in a sheer nightgown. Her eyes were fixated on the family portrait that hung above the elaborately carved wardrobe. She was unable to recall the names of the people in the painting, except for herself. The small child dressed in a lace white dress, a pale blue bow adorning her curled ashen locks.  
  
“My Queen, it is time for your medicine.” Matthew entered Natalia’s chamber. His hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and he wore his usual well-fitted black suit. He carried a silver tray with two cups. One was small, containing an assortment of colorful pills and the other a tall crystal glass of water. “I hope you slept well,” said Williams. He kneeled in front of her with a warm smile.

Her indigo eyes scanned over his face. She opened her mouth and a pill was placed on her tongue. The glass looked massive in her tiny hands as she washed it down with water. After swallowing, she let Matthew inspect to ensure she had consumed the capsule. 

Matthew nodded in approval, “very good, now the next one.”

Natalia was fed the remainder of her medicine, one at a time in the same manner. When she had finished, Williams stood and placed the tray on the side table beside them. He pet the top of his Queen’s head. His hand was warm and gentle.

“Has big brother woken up?” 

“Yes my Queen,” sighed Matthew removing his hand, in disappointment. He went to the wardrobe, deciding on an outfit for his beloved Queen. It was filled with numerous delicate dresses. Williams selected a white lace gown and returned to help Natalia change. “Edelstein is cleaning him up. Once he is presentable, he will bring him to you.”

With care the nightgown was removed over her head. The youthful Queen waited in anticipation to be clothed. Williams was enamored by her beauty.

“Matthew,” said Natalia, “my arms grow tired.”

The blonde snapped out of his daze. “Sorry, my Queen,” he apologized. His cheeks flushed from embarrassment, quick to slip the gown over her head. 

The long dress trailed behind her as went to sit at the vanity. She brushed her hair, humming softly. Close behind, Williams watched in admiration.


	34. Chapter 34

Edelstein lead Ivan by the chain leash that rung his neck. The Russian had been cleaned thoroughly and dressed in a form fitted black suit. The collar and sleeves of his undershirt ended in scalloped ruffles. 

“Instead of blanking out, you should react with more excitement,” Roderich instructed, “she likes strong emotions.”

“That is difficult,” grumbled Braginski. His expression was dark, “I despise her.”

“Ja, but you must or she will continue her abuse. Unless you are enjoying it?”

“Shut up,” Ivan growled and yanked the chain, pulling Roderich close. “I dislike you as well,” he hissed.

Edelstein's demeanor went unchanged, “do as I say, Braginski.” His poker face was impressive. He never seemed fazed by anything. 

Exhaling from frustration, Ivan nodded, “da, I will listen.” He released the chain and continued with him down the hall.  
  
At the end of the corridor was the Queen's chamber. Edelstein knocked, “my Queen, I have brought Braginski to you as requested.”

“Come in,” responded the Queen softly.

They entered. Natalia sat in an armchair facing the door, her hair had been braided into a long braid and twisted neatly atop her head. Williams stood at her side, arms folded behind his back. 

  
“Baby sister,” exclaimed Ivan in a sugar sweet tone. He kneeled before her, “I missed you so much. Can I do anything for you?” 

Matthew sneered in response.

“Da, I have a job for you” said Natalia.

Williams motioned towards a contraption on the far side of the room. A strange wooden chair with only two back legs sat in the corner. It was tall and had straps underneath. The seat had a hole at the front with a padlock, similar to a medieval stock. Ivan bit his lip.

“Go sit,” said Matthew. 

Slowly, Braginski situated himself under the chair. His ankles and wrists were locked into place. The chain was removed and his neck was sandwiched into position through the wooden seat. Williams helped the Queen into place, her exposed crotch rubbed against Ivan's face. The skirt of her dress was pulled over his back, covering most of his body.

“This is your assignment, Big Brother,” Natalia pet Ivan's hair, “go on.”

Without hesitation, Braginski went to work. 

Every day was the same routine. Ivan spent the majority of time strapped into the chair contraption and pleasuring the Queen with faux enthusiasm. He was bathed, fed and dress, then returned to his post. 

“How long must this go on?,” asked Braginski.

“Unfortunately, Williams' has a great deal of influence,” said Edelstein undoing the restraints. They were starting to rub the skin raw, Ivan massaged his wrists. He had been preforming his duty for over two weeks.

“So, he is to blame,” he grumbled and gargled a cup of mouth wash.

“Ja, Williams is jealous of you. You are the Queen's favorite.”

Ivan spat the liquid back into the cup, “I would gladly let him take my place,” he said and wiped his mouth on a sleeve. “I do not know how much longer I can play nice.”

“There are rumors that you will be reassigned soon, however, she really enjoys her time with you,” Edelstein said as he sanitized the chair for its next use, “this may be part of your daily routine even if you are given a different position.”

“I feel disgusting,” Braginski murmured as he changed out of his clothing.

Roderich began to fold Ivan's used clothing, “your bath should be drawn, please escort yourself today.”

Sighing, Ivan left the Queen's chambers to the bathroom down the hall. A maid was waiting outside the door. She adverted her gaze. Her round freckled cheeks flushing at the sight of his pale nude body.

“M-Mr. Braginski, I hope the water is to your liking today,” she bowed her head in respect. Her curly ginger hair fell into her face.

“It always is, thank you,” Ivan smiled down at the small woman, “I apologize for my indecency.”

The maid shook her head flustered, “no need to apologize, sir.”

“Could you tell me your name?,” he asked bending down to be at her eye level.

Her heart beat skipped, Braginski was incredible charming and handsome. He was well-known throughout the palace as being very courteous to all the servants, even those of the lowest rank.  
“Olivia, sir,” she squeaked.

“Olivia,” Braginski repeated, his Russian accent sounded heavier than usual. “It is nice to meet you, Miss Olivia. Can I ask a question?”

She nodded, grasping at the skirt of her black dress.

“Have you ever heard of Arthur Kirkland?”

“I-I have,” Olivia replied, “his name has been mentioned by some of staff in passing.”

“Oh,” Ivan lingered close to her ear, “can you tell me which of the servants?”

The woman trembled, smelling the mint on his tongue.

“I do not think I should say,” she answered timidly.

“Please,” he said gruffly, “if you do, I will pleasure you.”

Olivia's face went bright red, her body seizing. Her light blue eyes staring straight ahead of her as she bit her bottom lip. There was gossip about Braginski's position and the Queen raving about his 'talent'. Slowly, Olivia nodded in agreement.

A mellow smile stretched across Ivan's face, “come with me,” he crooned, taking hold of the maid's hand. He pulled her into the bathroom, fingers like ice. “I am told I am very skilled.”

  


* * *

  
  
Patiently, Braginski waited at the door of the throne room. After what seemed like ages, he was finally to be reassigned. He was hopeful the new position was less degrading, but the Queen was unpredictable.  
  
“Big brother, come,” Natalia beckoned with her hand.

“Yes, baby sister,” Ivan entered and automatically went to his knees, “how can I serve you?”

“You have been a very good boy, I want to reward you,” said the Queen. She nodded towards Williams, who was smiling. He placed an elaborately wrapped parcel down in front of Braginski. “The reaction to this gift will determine how I use you,” said Natalia.

Ivan looked to Matthew, he seemed far too pleased about the situation. Slowly, he undid the wrapping paper and opened the box. The contents made Braginski's stomach lurch. Inside was a large jar with something floating in a clear fluid. It was undoubtedly, a head. His hands shook as he removed the jar. Its contents shifted. Silently, he watched the severed head of his daughter turn towards him. Her milky green eyes vacantly looked back. Ivan swallowed down his anger, trying to collect himself.

“Williams' suggested this gift,” Natalia spoke in monotone, “if you dislike it, we can get you a different one. Maybe the idiot who loves you?”

“No need for another, I love it,” Braginski said. He forced a cheerful smile and hugged the jar close, “this is an amazing gift baby sister.”

“That pleases me to hear,” said the Queen. She stood, letting Matthew help her down the small set of steps. “You will receive your seal today.”

“My seal?” Asked Ivan, glancing to Williams' who looked extremely annoyed by the announcement.

“The Queen's seal,” Matthew tapped the crest tattoo on his cheek, “it is indication you are a loyal protector of the Queen and the royal family. The seal marks you as of the highest servant rank.”

“Edelstein,” she called.

Roderich came into the room, holding a long metal object in his hands. Similar in appearance to a cattle prod. It had a trigger at one end. The other side was flat and round, like a branding iron. 

“May I do it, your highness?” Asked Williams, his mauve eyes seemed to glow with excitement. He was eager to inflict Ivan with pain, he did not deserve the seal or the Queen's praise.

“Da,” said Natalia with a slight nod. Her expression was dull.

“Thank you, my Queen,” Matthew took the prod and pulled the trigger. The tip of the iron grew hot and quickly turned red.

Ivan waited in silence, shutting his eyes tightly as the prod was pressed below his eye. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostril. He gritted his teeth, but made no sound. He would not give Williams' the satisfaction.

* * *

“Mon dieu, he is still asleep,” Francis said leaning over Alfred who lay sleeping in his bed. He sighed, running his fingers through his long golden hair. “It has been weeks. You were much too rough.”

“Shut up! It was only oral,” Mr. Kirkland said adverting his gaze. He was leaning against the wall near the door, a bottle of whiskey in hand. “Also, he gave consent.”

“You forgetting I helped clean him, mon cher? He was a mess!”

“Tsk,” Arthur snarled, “it should not have been traumatizing enough to send him into hibernation. You never went into hibernation afterward.”

“True, but I know how cruel you can be when in the mood and intoxicated. It was also his first time with a man, I bet.”

“Oh, spare me,” sneered Kirkland rolling his eyes. “He was masturbating to the cripple.”

“Ah, jealousy,” teased the doctor.

“Go die!”

The Frenchman laughed. 

Alfred suddenly shot up, gasping for air. His bright blue eyes filled with panic as they darted about the room.

“Mr. Jones, please calm yourself,” Francis spoke softly. He touched the frightened man on the shoulder. “You are fine now.”

Body trembling, Jones clenched his teeth in effort to keep them from rattling together. He turned his head slowly towards Francis, but his gaze drifted past him to the blurred outline of Arthur across the room. 

Kirkland saw the terror on the man's beautiful face. A surge of arousal flooded through him. He took a swig of whiskey and licked his lip, sinfully. Erotic thoughts buzzed in his head.

“You are awake,” spoke Master Kirkland. His eyes were unsympathetic and yearning. He neared closer, taking Alfred's spectacles from his pocket. Alfred hunched his shoulders, staring down at the blanket as Arthur approached. “Trying to hi-”

“Hey!” Bonnefoy interrupted, casting a glare at Kirkland. “Stop.”

Arthur froze, silent. Hesitant for a moment before holding out the glasses to Francis. They were taken from his hand and returned to Alfred.

“Thank you,” Jones said. His voice was quiet and strained.

“Can I get you something to drink or eat?” Asked Francis.

Alfred slipped on his glasses and shook his head, “n-no.”

“You have been resting for many days, surely you must be hu-”

“NO, I don't want anything!” Jones said frantically, he wrapped his arms around his stomach.

Kirkland watched him, intensely. He could not look away. Bonnefoy took notice.

Francis stood, “excuse us, Mr. Jones.” He snatched Arthur by the arm and dragged him from the room.

“What are you doing?” growled Francis, slamming the door shut. He pried the bottle from Kirkland's hand and shoved him aside. “I know that look, you have had your fun. The boy, what made him agree to consent to such an act? You tell me.”

“There was no agreem-”

“Let me go ask the boy then, shall I?”

“FINE!” Exclaimed Arthur, “I promised we would help the cripple escape. Alfred overheard our discussion, he knows Braginski is not being treated well so I made an arrangement with him.”

“You know we cannot do that! We have to lay low.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Disgusting, lying pig.”

“So what if I did? That boy has been peacocking around since he arrived.”

“You are sick.”

“You lied?” Alfred asked while reopening the door. He felt weak, leaning against the frame for support. Both Arthur and Francis turned in his direction, silent. Neither knowing what to say. “You tricked me,” he hissed narrowing his eyes at Kirkland.

“I got tired of playing nice with you. I have treated you well since you arrived and you wish to risk your life for a child murderer? He killed his daughter. How can you dote over such a man?!”

“Ivan didn't kill his daughter! Whatever happened to that man’s child was not his doing. You really are the worst. Since I got here you've been trying to get with me and you took advantage of my desperation!”

The doorbell rang interrupting the conversation. Arthur ran a hand through his hair and turned towards the staircase. 

“I regret nothing,” Kirkland murmured. He hurried to the front door, opening it slowly. Roderich Edelstein stood on the porch. “Can I help you?”

“Mr. Kirkland, a pleasure to see you again,” Roderich bowed his head in greeting. “We have come to make a proposition.” 

Arthur raised a thick brow, “we?,” he questioned.   
  
Trailing behind Roderich came Ivan. His pale hair neatly smoothed back. He wore a dark suit and white gloves that matched his companion.

“It has been some time, Mr. Kirkland,” greeted Braginski. A grin stretching across his face, distorting the fresh tattoo of the Queen's seal that branded his cheek.

“Not long enough,” grumbled Kirkland, "so, you are one of the Queen's lackeys now?"

“Is that Ivan?” On the staircase stood Alfred. Francis was at his side helping him down the steps. He sunk down and took a seat on the bottom step. 

Braginski's smile dissipated, pushing past Arthur. His eyes made contact with Alfred's. He hurried swiftly inside, kneeling down before his comrade. Trembling, Jones reached out. His arms locked around Ivan's neck pulling him to his chest. 

“I missed you, Alfred,” Ivan said muffled by the fabric of Alfred's shirt. He was so warm.

His face hot, tears began to form in Alfred's eyes. They streamed down and onto Ivan's back. “Ivan, I missed you too.”

“Bitte Braginski, compose yourself,” said Edelstein entering the mansion. 

The Russian pulled away and stood. “I apologize,” he said adjusting his jacket.

“Ivan,” Alfred grabbed hold of Ivan's pant leg. He peered up at him, his oceanic eyes still wet with tears and face flushed.

Resting a large hand on his dear friend's head, Ivan smiled softly “hush now, it is okay.”

Reluctantly, Jones let go.

“State your business,” demanded Kirkland.

“We require you and your allies,” said Edelstein removing his glasses to wipe them with a handkerchief. “I know you have friends working in the palace, we need their names.”

“I do not know what you speak of,” responded the Englishman.

With a mischievous grin, Ivan wagged a finger in disapproval, “tsk, do not be lying, Master Kirkland.” Quietly Alfred watched, noticing the missing digit from his hand. Braginski neared close, he could smell the alcohol on Arthur's breath. “Provide me a list, or I cannot guarantee your son's safety,” he threatened huskily.  
  
Swallowing, Kirkland back away, “you bastard.” His eyes were like daggers, glaring at Ivan's smug face.  
  
“Da,” said Braginski in a melodic tone. He redirected his attention to the doctor. Francis was quick to advert his gaze. “Dr. Bonnefoy, I require your medical expertise. There is very little time, if we stay long it will attract attention.” Ivan began to undo his suit.

Bonnefoy exhaled, “oui?”

“I want you to take out the cage.”

Shaking his head in protest, Francis replied, “I do not have the proper equipment to remove a cardiac cage, it would be unsafe.”

“I need it removed, now,” ordered Ivan.

“F-fine, okay, but I cannot promise you will survive. We will operate in the dining room, I will make preparations.”

“Alfred's is to be removed as well, by the spring equinox.”

“Wait now, I will not allow this,” Arthur growled in protest, “Jones is my property!”

Braginski approached Kirkland, his mauve eyes flashed dangerously. He took hold of the smaller man's shirt collar and pulled him close. Arthur's feet barely touched the floor, as he struggled against the large Russian. “You call him property again, I will smash your face until you choke on your teeth. Do you understand me, Master Kirkland?”

“Ivan!” Cried out Alfred, he wobbled over to them.

Ivan's expression softened. He released Arthur and turned. Losing his footing, Alfred stumbled into his comrade's arms. “What is wrong with you? Are you ill?,” he questioned.

“I was asleep for awhile,” responded Alfred quietly.

“Go on now, tell the cripple what caused you to hibernate Jones,” laughed Kirkland.

“Alfred, what happened?” Questioned Ivan with a look of confusion. His eyes scanned over Alfred's face. He appeared embarrassed.

“He let me throat fuck him,” blurted Arthur, “I fucked that pretty mouth so long and hard, it took him weeks to recover. It was one-hundred percent consensual.”

“H-he promised to help save you,” whispered Jones, “otherwise, I would have never agreed.”

“I will ensure he keeps that promise,” Ivan said. He gently placed his cold lips to Alfred's forehead, “he will help us.”

Alfred trembled from the kiss, he clung closer. Ivan's body was much thicker than last time they had been together, but his smell remained unchanged. A deep tingle surged through him. He traced a hand over Ivan's muscular chest.

“Mr. Braginski, I am ready for you now,” called Francis. 

“I will deal with you later, Master Kirkland,” threatened Ivan. He walked with Alfred towards the dining room, “I will be expecting that list to be done when I get back.”


	35. Chapter 35

Alfred tried not to watch Francis preform the operation. Instead his eyes studied Ivan's face, running fingers though his soft hair. Eyes clenched shut, Braginski breathed heavily as the contraption around his heart was slowly cut away from the tissue. He laid on the dining table, the doctor hard at work.  
  
“I apologize for the pain. It is almost complete,” said Francis, “you heal quicker than most, even for a soulless. That is making it difficult to remove quickly.”

“Thank you for your hard work, doctor,” Ivan huffed, mauve eyes fluttering open. His voice was uneven and strained. He locked his gaze to Alfred, “it is not all bad. I have a nice view.”

“Pft-,” snorted Jones with a slight grin, “you making a pass at me?”

“Da,” he said chuckling, “I could not help myself.”

There was a metallic thud. Alfred glanced over as the cardiac cage was placed down. It was bloody and some flesh still clung to the birdcage shaped device. Jones' heart beat quickened at the realization that he too had one inside his own chest.

“It is done,” Bonnefoy said as he began to close Braginski's wound, “you lost a lot of blood. I can give you something to perk yourself up, but you will be in pain for a few days.”

“Thank you again, Dr. Bonnefoy,” Ivan said, “you have done much for me.”

“Oui, well not as though I could refuse to help,” sighed Francis, rubbing disinfectant over Ivan's sutures, “the stitches will dissolve.”

Braginski struggled to sit up, Alfred assisted him. “Do not be forgetting Alfred's, before the spring equinox,” said Ivan.

“Oui, it will be done,” Bonnefoy nodded.

“Braginski, we must leave,” spoke Roderich from the dining room entrance, “Master Kirkland has provided what was asked.”

Ivan stepped down from the table, using a chair for balance. He held out his hand, “I will memorize it,” he said. The paper was given to him. After scanning over the list, he tossed it aside.

“We will see each other again?” Asked Alfred, voice near a whisper.

“Da,” said Ivan cupping Alfred's cheek with his hand. He gently ran a thumb over his lip, “we will be together soon. You must be patient a little longer.”

Jones' experienced the same tingling sensation he had earlier, face reddening. He held back his urge to kiss him. Swallowing, Alfred nodded. Still flustered, he helped Ivan dress himself and to the front door. Bonnefoy had given him an injection in the neck, which seemed to helped with Ivan's fatigue. 

“Oh,” Edelstein pulled an envelope from his pocket, “your invitation to the equinox celebration, Master Kirkland. Your attendance is mandatory, as is Mr. Jones'.” 

Kirkland snatched it from the man's hand, “out now,” he growled.

“Goodbye,” Ivan sing-sung as he left the mansion. Alfred watched longingly after them from the front porch as they sped off towards the city.

“You, come,” snarled Kirkland, yanking his servant by the arm back inside.

Jones stumbled, “what is your problem?” 

Slamming the door behind them, Kirkland shoved Alfred to the floor, “I should dispose of you. Never should have treated you with kindness, what a fool I've been.”

“Arthur,” exclaimed Bonnefoy, his clothing stained from the operation, “enough, I grow weary of this behavior.”

Kirkland began to undo his belt, “then leave us.”

“Mon chéri, have you gone mad?!”

Scrambling quickly to his feet, Alfred dashed up the steps and locked himself in his room. He dragged the desk in front of the door and laid on the bed. Laying there, he stared at the ceiling. Placing his hand to his cheek, he shut his eyes. He already missed him.

* * *

Ivan and Roderich arrived back at the palace. They scanned their ID to enter the parking garage below the building. Various vehicles were lined in rows.

“I hope you can keep your composer, despite the pain,” said Edelstein turning into the assigned parking place. The dash lights reflected in his spectacles.

“Da,” Braginski shrugged, “I am accustom to pain.”

The two men existed the car and walked towards the open elevator. Motion censer lighting activated when they entered. Edelstein touched his finger to the print reader, a chime sounded and the doors shut. Slowly, they ascended.   
  
When the elevator reopened, Williams stood waiting for them. His smile was warm, but his gaze suspicious. A stray curl clung to his sweaty brow. “Hello, you two. How did things go?” Matthew inquired, he sounded a tad out of breath. 

“Very well, we delivered all the invitations,” said Ivan without hesitation. He smiled, “did you miss us?”

Williams smile dropped, “cut the bull shit, I know you two are up to something,” he sneered.

Edelstein cleared his throat, “what are you implying, Mr. Williams?”

“Rumor has it you have been servicing the female servants for information, Braginski,” Matthew poked Ivan in the chest.

“Oh?” Ivan's expression was unchanged, tilting his head in curiosity. “I have heard rumor you have been sneaking into the royal chamber after dark. Seems the laundry maidens found strange stains on the Queen's linen.”

Eyes narrowing, Matthew stepped aside to allow his fellow royal escorts out of the elevator. Roderich glared over at Ivan, vexed. He had been warned not to rile up Williams. 

“Have you been enjoying the severed head of your daughter?” Spoke Williams snarkily. He trailed behind Ivan down the corridor. “Must give you comfort as you slumber. I used to talk to her when she still had a brain, you know? I tried to teach her English. Slow minded girl, could never retain a word.”

Braginski was livid. Teeth cut into his tongue at an attempt to stop himself from having an out burst. Heavy tension in the air.

“Where is the Queen?” Asked Edelstein. “We were told to report to her upon our return.”

“Da, where is baby sister?” 

“In the dining room,” Matthew said scowling. He despised Ivan and that the Queen fancied him. It was he who was most loyal and had looked after her all these years. She could not survive without him. 

“Let us go, Braginski,” said Roderich rounding the corner at the end of the hall. Williams turned the opposite direction, towards the laundry room. He was going to have a word with the washing women. 

When Edelstein was sure Williams was out of earshot, he glanced over to Ivan. “What was that about servicing the female servants?”

“People's lips loosen when they are satisfied,” Ivan smirked. “Also, it was not just the female servants.”

A group of maids hurried down the hall to their left, they whispered amongst themselves. Spotting Ivan, they all waved in a flirtatious manner as they passed. Braginski smiled and waved back.

Roderich rolled his eyes, “I hope Matthew did not tell the Queen. She hates to share her playthings.” 

“Playthings? Has there been more than me?”

“Ja, long ago,” Edelstein said voice monotone, “she had him castrated for looking at another woman in a lustful manner. Then after she got bored, fed him to a pack of dogs at the arena. The proceeds went to an animal conservation charity.”

“How generous.”

Outside the dining room stood a male guard. He winked at Ivan in a familiar manner as he held the door open. Roderich sighed loudly and entered. 

At the end of a long table sat the Queen. With a dull expression, she looked up from her plate. “Big brother, Edelstein, you have returned,” Natalia spoke softly.

“Da, baby sister,” Ivan said with faux enthusiasm, “I missed your company.”

The Queen lifted her plate and dumped the leftover onto the floor. “Eat,” she demanded, expressionless. Quickly, Braginski hurried to her side. Going to his knees, he began to eat the meal from the floor. Natalia watched him intensely, “Roderich, did all go well?”

“Yes, my Queen. We delivered all the invitations,” Edelstein nodded.

“Good,” she said her eyes still on Ivan, “you may leave us.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Roderich turned and left the dining hall.  
  
“You thirsty, big brother?” Asked Natalia, she snapped her fingers. A servant hurried inside with a large pitcher of clear liquid, placed it onto the table, then quickly retreated. “Drink.”

Ivan took the pitcher. The smell of alcohol tinged his nose, he believed the substance to be vodka. “Baby sister, I have not had alcohol in a long time,” he said, “I do not know how I will behave.”

“Drink it all,” she ordered, “no vomiting.”

“Da, baby sister,” Braginski lifted the pitcher to his mouth. Forcing a smile, he began to drink. The liquid burned his throat and had a thick consistency. 

“This is used for hand sanitation,” Natalia said. “I wanted to clean you thoroughly. Williams has told me of some concerning rumors. You may be dirty, I must clean you.”

Ivan struggled to drink the last of the liquid, but managed to swallow it down. He placed the pitcher back on the table. His insides burned and he was lightheaded. The room was spinning. 

“Big Brother, have you been pleasuring others?” 

“N-no, baby sister,” answered Ivan. He was intoxicated, having trouble focusing his gaze. “I wou'd never.”

Natalia gathered Ivan's hair in her hand, forcing him to look at her. Her indigo eyes scanned over his face with disbelief, “you are to be muzzled when not in use.”

“Muzz-ed?” He repeated, cheeks hot and flushed.

A harness was put over his head from behind. The straps were tightened and there came the jingle of keys as it was locked into place. His mouth was encased by metal bars. He could still speak, but the bars prevented anything from nearing his lips. 

“You can sober up here, big brother,” she said and stood, “if I hear of any other rumors, I will have to punish you harshly. That would be a shame.”

Ivan nodded, then slumped over onto his side. He felt sick and dizzy. Shutting his eyes as he struggled not to vomit. 

Braginski was woken with a kick to the gut. His eyes snapped open, doubling over he held his stomach. He glared upwards, Matthew standing over him.

“I like the new accessory,” Williams chuckled gesturing to his face, “perfect look for the her highness's bitch.” He bent down with a grin, petting Ivan on the head. 

“You,” grumbled Braginski hoarsely, his throat raw. He swatted Matthew's hand away and struggled to his feet.  
  
“I have been told to watch you,” said Matthew, “you have lost the privilege of being unsupervised.” He grabbed Ivan forcefully by the arm and yanked him along. “Should have put you back on your leash,” grumbled Williams.

Braginski was dragged to his sleeping quarters and shoved inside. Matthew slammed the door shut. The room was tiny and cold. It had a twin bed, a bedside table where the jar with his daughter's head sat and a wooden stool in the corner. Ivan took a seat on the bed and Williams took the stool. 

“Was I given orders?” Ivan asked, rubbing the growing bruise on his stomach. He hoped the stitches in his chest would heal before he had to undress, fearing Williams would discover them. He also worried about his plans to escape. How was he to organize with Roderich, while under supervision?

“You are to pleasure the Queen when told. Be grateful,” spat Matthew. He rested his head against the wall, “this is more of a punishment for me than you. Roderich gets to be by her side, until you can be trusted. If I were her, I would kill you off. She is far too generous and kind.”

Braginski snorted, in disagreement.

“What was that, Braginski?” questioned Williams in a threatening tone. “You are aware that your fate lies partially in my hands, right?”

“She would not allow you to harm me,” said Ivan. 

“She does not trust you,” Matthew shrugged with a grin, “as long as I am not too rough, I can do whatever I want. You heal so fast, the proof would be gone before she saw. She would never know.”  
  
“It would be unwise of you to try anything,” warned Braginski.

“Ah, yes, you are stronger than me,” said Williams fishing a syringe out from his breast pocket, “however, unless you like hibernation, I suggest you behave.”

“Bastard,” he growled.

Every morning, Ivan was called to service Natalia. She laid in bed and had her breakfast while he worked under the covers. Once satisfied with his performance, he was often rewarded with leftover table scraps served in a dish on the floor. The dish had his name printed on the side, like a dog. For a brief moment during his feedings, he was alone with Roderich and was able to pass along a few names from Kirkland's list. Afterwards, Braginski was muzzled and returned to Williams' care.

One evening, Ivan was waiting for Matthew outside the bathroom door near the servants lodging corridor. Suddenly, he was approached by the maid, Olivia.

Braginski tried to shoo her away, “no, d-” 

“Sir, I am so sorry,” she said looking to her feet, “I had no idea she would do that to you. I feel as though it is all my fault.”

“Shh-” Ivan frantically hushed her, “please, it is not safe to speak.”

“Truly, I am so sorry,” Olivia said tears flooding her baby blue eyes and down her freckled cheeks, “I should have never agreed to-” 

The door opened, interrupting her. Matthew stepped towards Olivia and before she could say another word, a blade sliced through her neck. Blood splattered onto the wallpaper and she collapsed to the carpet, dead. Ivan's body shook, it had happened so quickly. Williams turned, droplets of red dripping down his glasses. His eyes were apathetic, approaching Ivan and wiping the bloodied knife on his suit. 

“What a stupid girl,” spoke Williams inspecting his cleaned blade. “Did you learn anything from that, Braginski? Lesson is, you do not cross the Queen.” His voice was stern and deep. He went back to Olivia's body, took hold of her ginger pigtail and dragged her lifeless corpse with him. A deep red stain was left behind. 

Ivan silently followed, still shaken from what had occurred. Some passing servants covered their mouths in horror, a few gasping at the sight from open rooms. 

“THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MISBEHAVE,” warned Matthew holding up Olivia's still body. Her clouded eyes still wet with tears. “ALL OF YOU ARE DISPOSABLE.”


End file.
